A River Flows: How It All Began
by arctapus
Summary: This story is about how the Canaan Land arc began from Academy days forward. This is the only story that is gritty and worthy of an M warning. All of the others are K or T in this series. This reflects Tom's fall and rise, Chakotay and the Maquis and how they found each other. It was written in 1998, another lifetime ago. I almost feel like I'm editing someone else's story. :D
1. Chapter 1

Title: A River Flows

Author: Helmboy/Arctapus (this story is from 1998)

Codes: STVOY, C/P, AU, Drama, Violence, Mature content, M/M, part 2 of Canaan Land Arc. This was written during my gritty phase. Be aware that it is. :D The rest of the series is going to be at a T rating. This is the only part of the story that stands out as gritty.

Summary: This tells the back story to Canaan Land, how Tom and Chakotay met, the Academy and sets up the story for the next fifteen or sixteen long forms. I have edited this to fit an M rating and to suit me now. I was much racier in my youth apparently. :D :D :D This is for a reader request. Thank you for the memories, reader darling. I am putting this together since the segments in those days were so short. It will be compiled into five parts per posting. I am still editing this into a readable format so it may take few days but this series will be posted here in total eventually. :D

Funny how a story will make you wonder. This is classic beat me up Tom and I will save you Chakotay that came out on the big listservs back in the day. I find this part of the story hard to write so I made it epic. No other story has the tone and content that this one has in the arc. Thanks for listening. :D

A RIVER FLOWS, Part One (1998)

-0-Summary: Tom arrives in Auckland.

NOTES: The character, Rell, is my own creation but his species, the Zibalians can be found in the Star Trek Encyclopedia. They are tattooed around their temporal areas and some are traders. One is noted as notorious, Kivas Fajo. Since information was so sparse on these aliens, I have made a lot of decisions regarding their personal characteristics. What little is known of Ibudan is embellished with my own considerations for the character as well.

Star Fleet Penal Colony, Auckland, New Zealand...

Nestled in the beautiful countryside a few miles beyond the ancient city of Auckland was a maximum security prison. It was a juxtaposition of immense irony that a place of containment should be situated in the heart of paradise. For one hundred and fifty years, Star Fleet housed its more dangerous hard core individuals at the facility. It was the end of the line for the worst of the worst. Once you went through the gates you never came out unless they let you. In its entire history there

had never been a break out. The seven hundred prisoners incarcerated there ranging from political prisoners such as Maquis, to murderers, thieves and

deserters were expected to work, repair their flawed social outlook and serve their time. No one was cut any slack.

It was supposed to be a model rehabilitation facility, the product of an enlightened society, calling itself a colony not a prison and its inmates 'rehabilitation candidates' rather than prisoners. In an enlightened society no one was hopeless and the barbaric measures of past generations had no place here. However, the gap between ideals and practice was a wide one and the measures taken to bridge that gap were unorthodox. Within the compressed society of the prison there grew a framework, a hierarchy that mirrored the prison's own official command structure. A prisoner organization led by a single man ran the prison from the inside. It enforced discipline and made sure that trouble didn't happen.

In return the warden and guards would turn a blind eye on a number of activities, the trade off for institutional calm and efficiency. Simple things, some illicit substances, a black market, these things were tolerated within limits. They had to run a facility with seven hundred men of all species. This made it possible.

At the top of the pile ruling the prison inmate population with an iron fist was an alien by the name of Rell.

Shuttle ride to Auckland, New Zealand...

Tom Paris sat quietly, a facade of unconcern on his face. Inside he was terrified. He was going to the worst possible place. He would be alone among people who carried a grudge against Star Fleet. He was an Admiral's son and there would be few people who would be happy to see him there.

He had been tortured by the entire process of the capture and trial. It had been nearly worse than anything he had endured. Even Louis hadn't been this bad.

His mother had been there, coming from a dig far away and they had only had a moment. She clung to him weeping with grief and he held her as tightly as he could. It had been horrible seeing her breakdown like that and it was one more arrow in his heart. When he had to go guards had to pry them apart. He heard her screams as the door slid shut.

Exercise yard, weight room...

Rell lifted weights, his break time longer than most. He was given greater latitude than most prisoners. He was the king rat, the boss of the facility from the prisoner side and his word was law. He had an organization, lieutenants that carried out his orders and it was highly efficient and profitable. Rell was a Zibalian, a mostly humanoid species that was little known beyond their distinctive tattooing. They were a non-Federation species, secretive and possessing of warp technology for many generations.

Rell was a crewman on a ship taking a contraband cargo to the frontier stopping over at a small space station on the way. He had spotted someone in the bar that struck his fancy activating his peculiar physiology and had been hauled off in irons after demolishing everything breakable in the room. A routine check of the ship revealed the cargo and all of the ship's crew was arrested. Due to Rell's peculiar physiology, little understood by the Federation who now had to care for him for fifteen years, he was sent to Auckland. It would take him less than two months to replace the old regime with one of his own.

Star Fleet Penal Colony, Auckland, New Zealand, July 8th, midday...

The shuttle ride was swift and they landed at the Intake gate. One by one the prisoners stepped off the ship, Tom last of all. The humidity was the first impression he had, the hot smothering heat instantly raising a sweat on his body as he walked along the fence. He did not notice someone standing nearby watching all the men as they walked to the guard standing by the door, directing them inside. The man, tall, well built and Bajoran in appearance smiled slightly as he turned and walked back to the Administrative Building where he worked.

Holding Cell, Auckland Penal Colony, July 8th, mid afternoon...

Tom paced the small space, too keyed up from the humiliating process of intake to sit. He had been stripped and searched, scanned and made to shower, receiving his first pair of prison fatigues and his ankle bracelet. They had him scheduled to talk to a prison psychiatrist, essentially to determine his mental stability for inclusion into the general population, and he would spend the night in this cell in seclusion. He would be alone for the last time tonight, alone in the silence of the special cell. Tomorrow, after a brief conversation with a prison psychiatrist, he would be sent out into the prison population to survive without friends or support. He would be on his own.

Administrative Building, July 8th, early evening...

The Bajoran sat at a computer terminal inputting the prison's requisition orders all the while watching the guard surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye. In ten minutes they would change shift and Steve Landess would come on duty. Landess was a bitter man and he carried a grudge against Rell and the Warden that would not be denied. Last year there had been a problem, a berserker Klingon prisoner and he had been stabbed. In Landess' mind the prison and the prisoner bosses had not done enough to ensure his rescue. As it turned out, Landess had made an error and after an internal investigation had been demoted with a demerit registered on his record. It had embittered him and made him vulnerable to the Bajoran's influence.

Every evening they would sit in the office, the last two people there and bitch. Everyday Steve Landess would fall farther and farther into the Bajoran's grasp and in the end the Bajoran would own his soul. That was good, he thought. He, Ibudan had plans. They would require the cooperation of the guards and the more he could win to his cause, the weaker Rell would become. So one by one, Ibudan began to learn their weaknesses. One by one he cataloged them against the future.

Steve Landess liked the idea of having sex with Trills. He liked their spots and their beauty. He talked about how much he would like to sleep with a Trill. He wanted to see just where on their women the spots went.

Ibudan playing a hunch surveyed the Trills in custody and settled on a young one who was the lover of a Bajoran prisoner. Waiting for him in his cell one night, Ibudan attacked the Bajoran stabbing him repeatedly with an ice pick. As the Bajoran lay choking on his own blood, Ibudan quietly informed him that his Trill was now forfeit and if he had any objections then he, Ibudan would be glad to hear them. Since none were forthcoming he went to the Trill's cell and took what was his, informing him afterward that he was now the property of Ibudan.

Two nights later in the Administration Office, Guard Steve Landess got half of his deepest wish given to him. He got a blow job by a Trill. Ibudan sat watching the door, a smile on his face. He now owned Landess lock, stock and barrel. To keep him happy he would have the Trill come to the office periodically and let Landess play with him to his heart's content. The goal was domination of the prison and he would need help to do that. This was the first step. He, Ibudan was not prepared to spend the next twenty years sitting on his ass while someone else ruled the facility. It wouldn't happen.

He had murdered a Cardassian on Deep Space Nine and was a ward of the Federation. So be it. He may have to give up his time to them but he didn't have to take it lying down. He would beat the system. He would own it and then he could do what he wanted. The Trill was just the first. If he had to sleep here he would not be sleeping alone. Only the best would do and he had what it took to get it.

In the Staff Psychiatrist's Office, that same moment...

Dr. Martin Garrity looked at the roster of new prisoners and noted Tom Paris. Here was an interesting character, someone worth study. This youngster had the world handed to him on a platter and here he was. Garrity wondered what kind of forces were at work on him that this would happen. He looked forward to his chat tomorrow and penciled him in for future visits. Here was a case study worth pursuing.

Administrative Building, July 8th, later that evening...

Steve Landess sat, his feet propped up on a desk as he dozed. Ibudan was running the computer gathering useful information for later use. He paused as he found the one he wanted. He smiled committing to memory the data listed below the picture. Tom Paris. Convicted of treason. Son of Fleet Admiral Owen Paris. Maquis.

Ibudan sat back considering his options and he decided that he would have this one. He had all the basic requirements. He was beautiful, blond, human and the son of one of the most important men in Star Fleet. He was a classy commodity. He would belong to Ibudan if he had to kill everyone in his way. Ibudan smiled and glanced at Landess. In ten minutes his Trill would be here and he would have his evening's entertainment watching Landess with the slender boy. It was all for a good cause, his own. Sighing with contentment he switched off the computer and put his own feet up on the desk.

Cell Block Seven, Cell 28...

Rell sat quietly meditating. He had just finished his dinner and soon his men would report to him. He would listen in his silent way and then he would dispense orders that would be followed to the letter. No one dared disobey. Rell was probably the strongest man in the prison. He bench pressed prodigious amounts of iron every day, partly for health reasons and partly to show everyone what they would face if they ever challenged him. No one understood much about his kind or they would know that his efforts were not remarkable. He came from a heavier gravity planet and therefore objects here would be easier to lift.

He meditated on his core, willing it to stillness, determined not to let his biology undermine all that he had achieved. His needs were secondary to maintaining his organization. As the first man arrived he sighed and resigned himself to listening to their noise. Among his kind communication was by telepathy. Talking with a voice was reserved for battle cries and pain. Even during sex it was anathema to make a sound. He sat shielding his mind from the battery of their emotions and listened as they told of the day's activities. He nodded, his computer-like brain assimilating information for future reference. By the time his last lieutenant spoke he had orders formulated.

One by one he told them in a very soft voice what he would have them do. One by one they nodded and left. When it was silent again, he relaxed his mind opening himself to the night sounds outside his window. Settling back on his bed, more spacious than the average inmate's bunk, he gave his mind over to solving his biggest problem. He had to decide what to do with Ibudan.

********************Summary: Tom settles in and learns the ropes...

Cell Block Seven, Cell 10...

Tom walked to the cell that would be his home with his belongings and the prison issue gear in his arms. He passed silent groups of men who stared at him, watching him as he passed with the guard. It was eerie, the stares and the silence that followed him. They reached his cell and he went inside. The prison guard told Tom what to do, then left. Tom stood for a moment, then put his things in the empty drawer and closet, careful not to disturb the gear of his roommate. He made his bed and put his grooming gear in the bathroom. Stepping back out he found himself not alone. A tall thin human stood in the doorway, dark hair and eyes, a blank expression on his face.

"Who are you?"

Tom paused. "Tom Paris. I live here."

The young man stepped in. "I'm Gavin. I live here too."

Tom nodded sitting on the bunk he had made up and sighed.

Gavin sat across from him and paused, uncertain how to start. "I heard of you," Gavin said resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers entwined.

Tom frowned. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Gavin replied. "I never had a celebrity for a roommate."

Tom grinned in spite of himself. The thin youngster grinned back. "What are you in here for?"

"Embezzlement."

Tom grinned. "Horrible crime."

"Star Fleet thought so. I made a big dent in their ledger. They aren't the forgiving kind."

Tom nodded, his smile fading. "Tell me about it."

They were silent for a moment. Gavin sighed. "You need to know about this place if you are going to survive in one piece."

"Tell me," Tom said quietly. He intended to survive and then some.

"There is a man who runs this place from our side of the fence. His name is Rell. He is one crazy ass person. I think he is a Zibalian. Anyway, he doesn't speak, he doesn't work and as far as anyone can tell after three years here, he doesn't fuck."

Tom snorted. "Shit."

"Yeah," Gavin said. "Anyway, its all pretty orderly. He runs the still and vice and other shit and the warden looks the other way because he keeps the peace in here."

Tom nodded, filing it all away for future reference.

"Right now there may be a power struggle going on. There is this Bajoran named Ibudan...at least I think he's Bajoran. He sure looks it and he tells everyone he is. Well, he wants to take Rell's place. He's in for murder and I have seen him do some pretty serious shit. Its like he has no fear. Stay away from him and his men."

Tom nodded, sighing.

"I saw Ibudan get the hots for a Bajoran boy that belonged to another Bajoran. He told him to give him the boy. When he didn't he cut off his ears. No one could pin it on him and the guy never told who it was. You don't rat in here. But Ibudan got the boy."

Tom licked his lips and sighed again. "I will remember to avoid him."

"You better. If he decides he wants you he will kill anyone that gets in his way." Gavin sighed. "He really hurt that Bajoran boy. He likes it rough. He likes it a lot and really rough."

Tom rubbed his hands together nervously and stared at the floor. He looked up at Gavin. "How do you get along in here?"

"I have a protector. I belong to a man named Martinelli. He is a lieutenant of Rell. He likes brunets." Gavin smiled. "Its funny. When he came for me and told me that I would be with him I hated him. I hated for him to touch me. But now? He treats me good and I love him. Its been nearly two years and we're good together."

Tom sighed. "So I have to find some strong or connected man to take me and then I'll be safe."

"That's how it works. With your looks every man in this place will be after you. They won't give up until they get you. I'm afraid that Ibudan will be among them. In fact count on it. Just stay away from him."

Tom nodded. Gavin rose and smiled. "Its dinner time. Lets go eat."

Tom rose and they walked out the door and down the corridor to the mess hall. All along the way eyes followed him, curious eyes, hard eyes, hungry eyes. He had never had so many intense eyes upon him before and he was working hard not to tremble. Gavin led the way and they sat down at a table together. Eating and talking, ignoring the stares, they didn't notice Ibudan walk in and pause smiling when he saw Tom. He walked over and pulled out a chair turning it around to sit on it, folding his arms across the back. Gavin stopped eating and paled. Tom sipped his coffee unconcerned.

"Hi." Ibudan smiled, the boy he chose for himself sitting across from him oblivious to who he was. This might just get easy.

"What do you want, Ibudan?" Gavin asked.

Ibudan smiled at Gavin, his eyes never leaving Tom. "I want your friend, Gavin."

Tom sat his cup down carefully composing his face. "Well, you can't have me."

"Why not?" Ibudan gazed intensely at Paris, admiring his blue eyes and aristocratic face.

"I'm not for sale."

"Oh, I'm not buying. I'm here to claim you."

Tom stared at him.

"See, its not safe for a good looking young man like you to be alone in a place like this. All these men locked up with other men... well, it isn't safe."

"Really," Tom replied, his face as blank as a slate.

"Yeah. Its easier to have one man in your bed than ten a day. If you were in my bed then you wouldn't have to worry about anyone else."

"Just you," Tom replied calmly.

"Something like that," Ibudan ventured amiably instantly finding a burning desire to bed this blond smart ass. He would have this one if it meant he had to commit murder.

"I'll take it under advisement." Tom smiled an insincere smile and turned to his food.

"Don't wait too long. The betting pool gives you until sundown before you are on your hands and knees in some dark corridor."

Ibudan rose and walked over to his table sitting among his cronies, his eyes never leaving Tom.

Gavin sighed. "He has made up his mind. He wants you."

"He will have to earn me." Tom said, his voice soft and low.

Tom made it through three days before disaster struck. He was working in the machine shop when Ibudan made a visit. #He was there before Tom noticed and the Bajoran watched Tom with covetous eyes. Tom glanced to the doorway and straightened. Ibudan smiled and walked over to him. They were about the same height but Ibudan was a bigger, more muscular man. He was older and looked as unscrupulous as he certainly was. There was an air of fatality about him that made Tom chilled and he silently vowed he would never become this man's property.

Ibudan walked closer and leaned on the work bench next to Tom. He reached out and touched Tom's hand caressing it gently. Tom pulled his hand away and turned to work. Ibudan took hold of it, the grip impressive. Gavin told him he worked out and it showed. "Don't be like that. I *like* you."

Tom waited quietly and Ibudan released him. He stared at the cowling he was working on and sighed. "What do you want?"

"I want you," he said moving to stand behind Tom, resting his hands on Tom's waist.

"Sorry," Tom replied picking up a tool to work.

Ibudan moved closer pinning Tom to the bench his groin pressing into Tom's ass. His erection rubbed along Tom's cleft and he froze. He stiffened and stood up straight.

Ibudan turned him, pulling Tom against him, his powerful arms tightening around Tom's waist. He leaned in and kissed him, his lips hard against Tom's. Tom stood passively as Ibudan kissed him and when he broke it shoved the Bajoran back.

"Don't do that again," Tom whispered, his voice dangerous.

"I will. I've decided to make you mine. The word is out. You are off limits. No one else out there is strong enough to challenge me. So why don't we cut to the chase. You come to my cell tonight and we can get to know each other. Easy, right?"

"No," Tom replied, his anger limitless. "I won't be your whore."

Ibudan smiled. "Oh, you will be. You will be or I will kill until you are." With a wink he turned and walked out the door.

Tom let out the breath he was holding. For a moment he just stood silently and then he turned back to the machine. With shaking hands he removed the cowling.

Mess Hall...

Tom walked into the mess hall and looked around for Gavin. He was nowhere to be seen. Tom gazed over at Rell, a silent figure who sat watching him as he walked to his usual table and sat down to eat. Aware of many eyes on him, he ate quietly, intent upon the contents of his tray. By doing so he didn't notice Ibudan walk over to him. He sat across from him and leaned forward on his elbows.

"So you're eating alone today?" His voice was conversational but his eyes were filled with lust.

Tom had seen that look a hundred times and he sighed inside. He continued to eat, ignoring Ibudan.

"You know you live alone now. Since you do why don't you move in with me? I could use a roommate."

Tom stared at him gauging his intent. "What did you do to Gavin?"

Ibudan smiled. "Nothing. That is nothing that can be proven."

Tom sat for a moment then rose carrying his tray to the recycler. He moved out of the mess hall as fast as he could without attracting too much attention.

Ibudan stood turning to go back to his table. As he did so his eyes met Rell's. For a moment the two men held their gaze and then Ibudan turned, a smile on his face and walked back to his table.

Cell Block Seven, Cell Ten...

Tom burst through the door and noted that Gavin's bunk was empty. He checked the closet, dresser and bathroom. All of his belongings were gone. He stood in the room panting with fear and confusion. Gavin was gone.

Just then he heard a noise by the door. Tom turned and stared into the dark and cruel eyes of Ibudan.

************************Crossfire

Cell Block Seven, Cell ten...

Tom stared at the Bajoran, his heart pounding. It was happening again. He was being reduced to nothing, to become less than a toy. The Bajoran had followed him here just as he had followed him the past few days. Ibudan was an up and coming young Turk and Tom had avoided him as best he could. Yet everywhere he turned the Bajoran was there. It was worse than the hungry stares he got from too many people. He was aware that a lot of paybacks could be had by hurting him.

He stared at the Bajoran and felt himself filled with rage. He might not win. The man was very strong and big but he would have a fight on his hands. Tom resolved to fight. Turning and facing Ibudan squarely, he waited for him to come close.

"You are going to fight are you?"

"You're going to have to earn me." Tom clenched his fists his eyes never leaving Ibudan's.

"That's all right. I don't mind," he said stepping into the cell, the door sliding shut behind him. "I like it rough."

For a moment they stood, then Ibudan rushed Tom, his charge fast and unexpected. He slammed Tom into the wall knocking the wind out of him. Ibudan slugged Tom three times in the stomach, then turned and threw him across the room, crashing him into the wall. Ibudan smiled, barely breaking a sweat and walked to the young man huddled on the floor. Tom slammed his fist into Ibudan's groin, the older man bending over in pain as Tom struggled to his feet. Tom struck him on the chin and Ibudan flew against the back wall striking it and falling to the floor.

For a moment he sat pain-filled and stunned, then rage flooded him and he rose determined to beat Paris. He launched himself again, his speed once more surprising Tom and they fell on the bed. Ibudan straddled the younger man and punched his face once, twice, then again.

Tom stunned and bloodied lay still gasping for breath around the blood in his nose. He felt rough hands turn him over and fingers fumble with his clothes. Rising in rage, he was shoved down and his head held against the bed. Struggling to break free he felt himself smothering as the Bajoran pressed him into the mattress. Just before he blacked out the hand released him and he gasped for breath, blood covering the blanket.

He had no strength, hardly any breath and was unable to stop Ibudan from doing what he came to do. Tom clutched the bed willing himself to silence and waited until Ibudan was done. The Bajoran pulled himself up fastening his clothes as he stared at the body of his latest acquisition. Paris was battered and bruised but he was also marked. He would be Ibudan's and as he reached down and squeezed Tom's ass he smiled. Landess would never get a piece of this. Paris was his alone.

Cell Block Seven, Cell Ten...

For a long time Tom lay on the bed aching and bloodied. Finally he sat up pained and weak, walking to the bathroom and washing his face over and over with cold water. He stripped and showered, taking care with his sore body and changed into a new prison overall. Walking over to the bed, he lay down carefully and closed his eyes. He had been in this prison three days and already he was less than nothing. He was the personal property of Ibudan of Bajor and there was nothing he could do about it.

Cell Block...

Rell sat meditating as he did in the evening battling his nature in his solitude. He mulled over the report he had been given about Ibudan. The Bajoran didn't take a piss in this place that Rell wasn't told about it. So Ibudan had taken another prisoner as his own. First the Trill and now the Admiral's son. He barely tolerated Ibudan taking the Trill. Something about the Bajoran turned Rell's stomach. Trills were beautiful even to his eyes and the idea of Ibudan using his Trill like a whore sat very badly with him.

As bad as it was to order and harmony, the idea of Ibudan having sex with the delicate beautiful youngster was difficult to take. The idea that he passed him to others bothered him at his core level. It was against the way. No one was supposed to do that to their bond. Rell was aware that Ibudan had compromised three guards including Steve Landess. He was aware of his rifling of the computers for information to use against anyone he needed. He was aware of his interest in the Paris boy before he made his move. His network told him that Ibudan had watched the youngster when he arrived.

Nothing Ibudan did went unwatched. Of course he didn't know that. But that was his Persian flaw. Rell paused, a flash of beauty passing through his mind, a cry and then sadness. The Trill was being used again. Rell felt rage fill him and then he pushed it down. He would take care of Ibudan. He, Rell would teach him the meaning of life. The Trill would be forfeit to him and he would take care of him. Rell loved beauty, alien or otherwise. The Trill was very beautiful. Soon it would be his and he would treat it right.

Soon. When Ibudan was dead and buried.

Auckland Penal Colony, New Zealand, the next day...

Tom dressed slowly, sore and bruised, marks of violence all over his body. He washed his face, careful of the bruise that discolored his jaw. A split lip completed his facial disfigurement but they paled next to the pain in his ass and the sorrow of his heart. He had fought back and lost but for the first time he felt less helpless. He may not win the war with the Bajoran but he would make sure the skirmishes counted. He made a vow to fight back every time the Bajoran came and come he would. Ibudan had decided to possess him and Tom knew what that meant. The Bajoran would not stop until he had what he wanted or Tom was dead. One way or the other, Tom lost. He licked his lips, wincing at the cut in his lip, then he turned and walked into the cell stopping when he saw a guard standing quietly in the middle of the room.

The guard walked to him without a word, taking his jaw into his hand examining it carefully. Tom's face was shuttered, his emotions stored beneath layers of protection. The guard pulled a re-generator out of his pocket moving it over the cuts and bruises slowly and expertly. Tom stood still as the guard removed the last trace of his injury. He finished and put the re-generator into Tom's hand, a smirk on his face. Tom looked at him, his eyes filled with hatred and moved around him limping slightly out the door.

Officer Landess watched the youngster go, admiring his beauty and he smiled. Ibudan only let him have the Trill. He had learned to appreciate the 'different' charms of a man's body. Maybe he would let him have a crack at the leggy blond that just left. He sighed, his hopes high as he left the cell, the door hissing shut behind him.

Prison Mess Hall...

The mess hall was a microcosm of the prison, the dynamics of seating a good indicator into the power politics of confinement. A knowledgeable person would be able to tell from a simple mapping of the seating and flow of individuals who was who and who belonged to whom. The best tables, the ones by the big window were taken by the power elite, the minions of the King Rat. The best seat, the one next to the window was occupied by the Zibalian. Arrayed around him in concentric circles, his lieutenants buffered him against intrusion or danger.

At the far end of the room, Ibudan sat, his young minions sitting at three tables with him. Around them flowed the rest of the prisoners sitting in groups, often dictated by species. Into the room and into line Tom walked, his hands sweating and his heart pounding. He took a tray and quietly walked along, food being served to him by trustees. Tom turned, taking his coffee cup in hand and stopped short of moving to a seat. Ibudan sat at his table, his laser eyes burning into Tom as he gestured with his gaze to the seat next to him.

Tom stood, the heat of the coffee burning his fingers, his mind in a turmoil over what to do. He couldn't go to Ibudan. No way in hell. He would have to fight him. Tom had made up his mind. He would not become the property of another man without a fight. For a moment Tom didn't know what to do. Then it became clear to him. Without another thought he turned and walked over to Rell.

Ibudan watched Tom turn and walk toward the Zibalian with carefully disguised rage. He didn't betray a single emotion, yet internally he had not been this angry in a very long time. He watched as the young man stopped in front of Rell's outer ring. As Tom approached he was aware of many eyes on him. A large number of very big men rose and faced him, their message clear. He swallowed, his facade flickering for a moment and then Rell snapped his fingers. The men glanced at him, then sat down again.

Rell stared at Tom, his dark eyes unreadable. With a flicker of his eyes, he ordered Tom to come and sit in the empty chair next to his. He moved nervously around the big men who watched him with hard eyes. Moving to the empty chair, hesitating for just a short moment, he sat his tray down and then himself. Rell sat back in his chair and threw a big arm casually over the back of Tom's chair gazing unblinkingly at the slim human eating his breakfast next to him. With an internal smile, he turned his gaze to Ibudan.

Across the room, the Bajoran fumed in silence watching the big alien take possession of his boy. The room was very quiet as everyone busied themselves in their meal. The tension was intense as both sides took their measure of the other. When Rell slipped his arm over Tom's chair and turned a cool gaze on Ibudan, he knew that the gauntlet had been thrown down. Rell was taking possession of his boy and unless he could get him back and teach him a lesson Ibudan was finished.

Ibudan met Rell's gaze and leaned back nonchalantly in his chair. He slipped his hands behind his head as he gazed across the room. This would up the ante and speed up his timetable. In the end he would prevail because it didn't matter to him what it took to be number one. And when he claimed that place, Ibudan vowed to claim Tom Paris. When he got through with Paris, the boy would be begging him to fuck him.

Twenty silent minutes later...

Tom ate his food, barely able to swallow and acted like he was always a pawn in a war between ruthless men. He usually was. This should be like other times but it wasn't. The men playing this game were soulless and they played for keeps. They ran this place, organized it and maintained their control with any means necessary. One lone man, friendless and without tangible assets was walking a fine line. He had to align himself with someone strong enough to give him the protection he needed. He also had to give to that person something in exchange.

Since his services as a pilot would not be useful inside the walls of this place, that left very few things to trade. A canny knowledge of wine, fluent French, a wide ranging familiarity with great books and the ability to play piano at a high level of proficiency were hardly trade goods this market would value. Tom sipped his coffee once again falling back on the one service he could provide and feeling the familiar sinking feeling overtake him. He closed his eyes for a moment, then continued his meal. He had done a lot of things, had acquired a good education and had talents that made him unique. He knew his value as a pilot. Yet when push came to shove it was how willing he would be to align himself with a man who would use him in his bed that would determine his fate. Before it was always someone taking what they wanted without a thought to his own comfort or feelings. Now he made his choice and maybe it would work out.

If he stayed with the Bajoran he would suffer. This alien, Rell was not known to have sex. He was a closed book and no one really got a peek inside. If he aligned himself with this man he just might be spared the trauma of having to sleep with another stranger. And if he wanted Tom in his bed, at least Tom *came* to him. Sitting there drinking his coffee, it amazed him how much better he felt about his situation knowing that.

Cell Block Seven

Ibudan straightened his clothes and walked into the bathroom washing his hands and getting himself ready to go to his job in the Administration Building. He felt a lot better having worked out his frustrations. His rage had been contained and it would not interfere with his thinking. He would continue on with the plan albeit at a much faster pace. In the end he would win and that bastard Paris would be his. He contemplated no other resolution. Turning to leave, he stared at the bloodied battered Trill laying on the bed and sighed. He would have to send someone down to take care of him. It wouldn't do for one of his most popular assets to be put out of commission for too long. A little repair here and there and he would be as good as new. With that, Ibudan turned and left the room.

Mess Hall...

Tom finished his meal and rose to dump his tray when a big hand caught his arm, the power of the grip stunning him as he sat back down. He licked his lips, his eyes carefully focused on his tray and waited. The hand let go of him and he sat back, letting go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. The men sitting around him rose and began to walk away taking their trays and Rell's to be discarded. As the room emptied Tom began to wonder how he would explain being late for his work station. Soon the room was empty but for Rell and Tom. The big man turned in his chair and reached over to Tom, taking his face in hand and examining it carefully from side to side. Tom stared into the Zibalian's eyes and noted that there was no white to them. They were a solid brown, complimenting the tattooing that swirled around his forehead.

As he stared at the tattoo Tom noticed that it had been puckered when applied and so when it healed a fine ridge was raised. The tattoo disappeared into the fine black hair that fell in shaggy array around the man's still face. The alien's silence was unnerving and Tom found himself fidgeting in spite of himself. Rell took his hand and examined it, then he lay a hand on Tom's thigh, running it up and down that lean limb. Tom swallowed, lowering his eyes as the silent alien took inventory of his body. He sighed and cleared his throat, licking dry lips as he waited. Finally, the alien removed his hand and sat quietly contemplating the young human with unfathomable eyes.

"So," Tom asked, his glib voice shaky, "do I pass inspection?"

The alien didn't reply, his solemn eyes regarding Tom directly. Tom glanced away staring at his hands. "You know, in my culture it's considered impolite to stare."

A slow smile formed on Rell's face. "Is that so, human."

Tom bit his lip and glanced at Rell. "So you speak."

"I can if I wish," Rell replied,his voice soft and menacing in its timbre.

"So what now?" Tom asked, his voice betraying a bit of his weariness.

"Ibudan wants you. He claimed you last night."

Tom flushed, his face coloring with his embarrassment. "You heard about that did you?"

Rell smiled again. "No one does anything in this place that I don't find out about." He shifted and took Tom's hand again. "Ibudan wants to make you his woman."

Tom paled, the word affecting him like fingernails dragged across a chalkboard.

"You came to me instead. That makes you mine."

Tom stared at him, his distress showing only in his eyes and nodded.

"You are mine. You have my protection. He will come after you. You will be safe with my people. When I am done with Ibudan there will be nothing left of him. Then I will take his Trill too."

Tom nodded turning his gaze to the view beyond the window. Somewhere on the other side of the universe was a man that he had found a moment's peace with, a brief interlude in the terror that had pursued him for so long. He might be dead or not, captured or not. No matter what he was the first and last man since the Academy that had touched him and he felt something in response. Looking at the big alien who just claimed him he knew it would not be much different than Marseilles. He shut his eyes and sighed.

**********************************An unusual man makes an impression

Machine Shop, Auckland Prison Colony, Mid shift that same day...

Tom worked on the engine, his hands only shaking slightly as he struggled to get the cowling off. It had been a very tense morning and god only knew what would happen later. He was to go to his cell after shift, shower, change and then bring his belongings to Rell's. He would be living there from now on. Tom glanced up noting that one of Rell's goons now worked in the machine shop and marveled at the influence that the man had. He was powerful enough to do what he wanted and Tom felt a minuscule sense of relief that he was protected. Ibudan had looked at him with a clear intent. The sun baked down as Tom worked and another day slipped by out of the nearly three years he would have to be here.

Prison Exercise Yard...

Rell sat on the bench, the sun warming him. It was his favorite time of the day when meal time was over and everyone was at their work. He was an unusual man. He did not do a job everyday. His job was unseen. The Warden was grateful as he managed a mixed species installation of dangerous volatile men. He cut Rell slack and never looked too closely. It had actually been calmer here since Rell had ousted the last man to occupy his spot and he was conscious of his debt. It was never spoken.

It was acknowledged by omission.

Rell ran a black market, contraband and illicit drugs, and a still. He was given access to records and allowed to post his people in jobs that maintained order. He was allowed to move prisoners from their cells to others and thus those in relationships were allowed to live together. Of course they owed him by asking but it was a small price to pay for most. It was a well run, orderly prison that he presided over on his side of the barrier. But it was a lonely one. There had never been a Zibalian in the prison system of the Federation and they were an enigma to the people charged with maintaining Rell.

Rell was sensitive to sound, preferring not to speak and then if he had to, in the softest of tones. He was silent, moving with an economy that reminded one of a tiger. He was immensely strong, coming from a high gravity world to Earth and he worked out daily to maintain his muscle tone and physique. Rell had made no overt attempts to find someone to sleep with in the three years he had been here and no one was even sure that he was capable of biological sex. He never uncovered his body no matter how hot it was and there was a lot of speculation, none of it public about what he looked like naked.

Rell sighed silently, meditating on the core, the center inside where he lived. All Zidalians meditated, especially the unbonded males like him. They were creatures of their biology, slaves to the eruptions of passion that often overtook them when they were not vigilant. He had been sloppy that day in the station bar when he had been overtaken by his body and his desire for the slim alien woman standing at the bar. As a consequence he was now a ward of the state for fifteen years. Coming into the prison he had quietly learned the structure and in two months he was the man in charge. It had not taken more than a few weeks to eliminate, intimidate and coerce his way to the top. He was brilliant, a walking computer. He was aware of everything.

Rell was also a telepath, the preferred method of communication by his people. The emotions and actions of others came to him clearly from the minds of his enemies and competitors. They of course did not know this and he told no one. It was an advantage he utilized to his benefit. Sitting in the sun, relaxing from his responsibilities for a few moments he went inside himself and did something he thought he would never do here. He made room in the core, in his center for the presence of another. He would make a bond with the slim human that had come to him seeking his protection. With a rising sense of peace, Rell smiled and turned inward once again.

Cell Block Seven

Tom Paris finished packing the meager belongings of his cell into a bag and straightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had showered and changed, nervously grooming himself and then he walked to the door bag in hand and stepped toward his new and uncertain life.

In Rell's Cell Block

Tom put his things away and walked to the bed sitting and rubbing his face nervously with his hands. The bed was better and bigger than his own. Obviously being a force in the prison had its perks he thought bitterly. The room was sparse, a mat on the floor by the far wall. Even the cell was bigger than usual. As he sat lost in thought he did not notice Rell walk into the room. Rell walked to him, startling him and took his face into hand, raising his eyes to meet his own. Tom stared paralyzed as the big alien slowly smiled. Rell caressed Tom's face gently and then pulled him to his feet. Tom stood silently, stoically waiting as he went through the unfamiliar sensation of having to look up to another person. Rell was a bigger and taller man than him and in the simple act of taking his hand and pulling him to his feet Tom felt a modicum of the immense strength the man possessed.

A strong hand caressed Tom's cheek gently, a thumb slowly rubbing Tom's lips. Then with another smile he nodded to the door. Tom paused and then turned to go, Rell's hand resting on the small of his back. They walked out the door to dinner.

Mess Hall...

Dinner was silent as Tom sat next to Rell and ate. Ringing them, his lieutenants ate as well. On the other side of the room Ibudan sat oblivious to Rell, his table filled with conversation and laughter as it was any other day. However, Ibudan was burning with anger and it would not subside until he had his revenge. As he ate and talked with his men he mentally organized the plan that he would implement to gain control of the prison.

Three hours later...

Tom sat beside Rell working at keeping himself calm, waiting as the alien went through his nightly instructions with his men. Night fell as they finished and with a cadre of body guards they walked into the building to go to Rell's cell. As the door shut behind them Tom stood tensed in the middle of the room, fists clenched. Rell walked over and touched his face with a tender caress. Tom blinked, startled at the gentle touch once again. Rell rubbed Tom's cheek and then his neck caressing the soft skin and then he smiled.

"Go to bed."

Tom hesitated, then walked to the bed, stripping his clothes down to his underwear, slipping into the sheets. He lay down uncertain about which side of the bed to take and then he lay quietly, his back to the wall as he watched Rell move to the mat and sit, relaxing and closing his mind. /...He meditates. That's what the mat is for.../

Tom sighed pensively waiting for the big alien to end his meditation and join him. What would happen then he didn't know.

Four hours later...

Tom felt someone move in next to him and he awoke with a start. The alien was there sliding into the bed and making himself comfortable. Tom held his breath as Rell turned to him and pulled him into his arms. He lay on the alien, his leg thrown over Rells's and his arm around Rell's waist. Rell stroked his face, his fingers whisper soft and tucked Tom's head into the crook of his neck. Then he lay still. Tom suppressed his shock and surprise, lying as still as he could. The big body beside and beneath him became very still, only the even breathing of the alien evidence that life still thrived in the silent form. Tom had never experienced anyone so quiet before and it unnerved him.

A strong arm rising from the bed began to stroke his back in soothing massaging motions and he found himself relaxing marginally. For a long time he lay still, the hand gently stroking him and then he fell asleep.

The next morning...

Tom awoke alone in the bed. Noise from the bathroom told him where Rell was. He lay still trying to remember the kaleidoscope of dreams that he had one after another in the night. It was an odd phenomenon, as if someone was turning a holographic book of the pages of his life and was rifling through them. He had never had a dream like that and he felt mildly disturbed.

Rell came out of the bathroom pausing to stare at Tom. With a nod of his head, he motioned Tom to rise and take care of his needs. Tom complied and dressed in his day's clothes pausing by the bed uncertain. Rell stared at the bed and then Tom. The younger man moved to make it. He waited quietly, observantly. Rell had watched the youngster, the fires in his core flaring as the graceful boy tidied up. He felt his control tested as he watched without touching. When the boy was finished he walked to him taking his slim waist into his hands. He stared deeply into the blue eyes memorizing that which emanated from the soul of the younger man.

Tom became uneasy but found he could not look away. Rell had caught him holding him in his gaze and he sighed audibly, his distress building. What would happen now?

For several minutes Rell watched Tom, his aura bright around him. He had let down his walls in his distress and the alien took his measure. He pulled the youngster close to him watching Tom's fear and unease rise and more was disclosed. Rell smiled slowly and pulled Tom closer rubbing his cheek against Tom's

Tom stood stock still, his arms around Rell as the man slowly rubbed his face against Tom's. Tom didn't know that he was telling Rell things about himself with every touch and that slowly Rell was building toward the moment when he would link himself to Tom and they would share a mental and emotional bond that would enhance the physical beyond anything the human was capable of creating. It was what he, Rell needed and now with this boy craved with an unholy desire. He would take this slow, winning the youngster over and then when he least expected it, he would bond and they would join their flesh together in deep and abiding silence.

************************TBC c1998


	2. Chapter 2

A River Runs, Part Two

Prison Courtyard, evening...

Tom sat fidgeting as he waited for Rell to finish his nightly conference. It had been three days passing since he had become Rell's and the alien had not touched him beyond holding him in bed, stroking his face gently and rubbing his face against Tom's. Tom wished he knew more about his people but a quick peak at the Federation database in the library revealed that nearly no one had much information about Zibalians. He was probably going to know more about their kind in the next three years than anyone else in the Federation. Rell finished and rose, Tom following suit. Resting his hand in the small of Tom's back they walked to the building and to their cell in silence. Tom entered and waited having learned that Rell would indicate what he needed him to do. Rell stood staring at the younger man with this long unblinking unnerving stare. Tom had learned to force himself to stand still, not moving as the alien reviewed him this way. He would learn patience Tom thought bitterly as he waited for the signal to go to bed. It didn't come tonight.

"Take off your clothes. Show me your body." His voice was a soft whisper.

Tom paled visibly and moved with shaking hands to comply. When he was naked he stared at a spot in the foreground and tried to lose himself.

Rell stared long and hard at Tom sighed, unreadable as ever. He walked to Tom pausing close enough for their bodies to touch and slid his hands around Tom's waist. He leaned down and rubbed his cheek against Tom's, wordless and silent the whole time. Tom rested his arms on Rell's shoulders and willed himself to relax. The alien obviously wanted him and now would be the moment of no return. He would have to permit whatever the strange alien wanted to do. Rell touched his cheek, his hands resting on Tom's back and absorbed the torrent of emotions that poured out of the younger man. He was trembling in Rell's arms and the floodgates were opened. It was time.

Rell spoke softly into Tom's ear telling him to lay down on the bed and wait for him. Tom complied, staring through the dim lighting Rell called for as the alien began to disrobe. Rell removed his shirt revealing a swirling tattoo that ran from his waist to his collarbones, resembling the body tattoos some had affected in the twentieth-century. This was delicate, parallel lines of black and gray that swirled rather like fingerprints all around his body and his arms from wrist to shoulder.

He shed his pants kicking them away with his bare feet and turned to Tom revealed. His thick powerful legs were covered from ankle to hip with the same raised tattoos. Tom stared at his groin, noting that he too had a dick and that it was as tattooed as the rest of his body. Perhaps that was the way they were born rather than an affectation like other species including his own. Tom swallowed, noting the size of the man and the fact that he was already erect. For a long moment Rell just stood watching Tom, stroking himself gently.

Tom closed his eyes as the big man walked forward and lay down beside him propped up on an elbow, a big hand moving to Tom's chest. For a moment it just rested. Then it traced Tom's pects. Tom licked his lips, his eyes closed and tried to hold still. Rell fingered the fine hair of Tom's chest, amazed that such a thing was possible. His own kind had no hair in this manner and neither did males have nipples on their chest. Rell wondered what a man would be doing with nipples. Among his kind only women had such things. He smiled that his first bond would be a man with such. The boy gave him his emotions and thoughts, jumbled and aroused as his turmoil lowered his walls. Tom was easy to read in spite of formidable mental defenses. He could be understood best when he was in great distress. Rell pulsed with the thought of reading him when he was equally aroused. He filed all of his observations away to be meditated upon later. All the sensations that this boy exuded would be reviewed later in silence.

Rell smiled. He leaned down and touched his forehead to Tom's beginning a bonding ritual as old as his people. Tom hit by a blinding light in his mind cried out and arched as big hands and a leg over his body pinned him to the bed. The light burst all through his mind, then dimmed leaving him stunned and slightly nauseated. He was in a corridor huddled naked against the wall when he looked up, Rell standing beside him. Rell reached down pulling him up to hold him tightly in an embrace. Tom knew he was dreaming. He had to run.

All around them in the mental landscape of the bond, dark shadows hissed and moved. All the misery, terror and sorrow of Tom's life swirled around him and he cried out. Rell held him as they flit past them, low voices of long ago encounters murmuring in the background. All the disappointments, sorrow, failure and battles of his life flung themselves at him and he could not run. Rell held him fast. The wind howled and Tom felt his heart burst as he reviewed every encounter with his father, every sexual interlude, consensual and otherwise, every harsh word and body blow. It all came at him and he was helpless before it.

Rell pulled him into his arms watching the younger man's face contort with terror and despair as the horrible moments of his life coalesced. He lowered his face pressing his cheek against Tom's sweat and teared stained face absorbing every image, every sound as the youngster wept in his arms. As they stood in the darkness of his mental torment, the wind began to die down and the darkness began to fade into light. His mother's love, the friendships of his life, every good moment, every word and deed that ever pleased him flooded his heart and he was stilled. It all began to fade and once again Tom was back in his cell lying in bed with an alien stranger that owned him.

Rell stared at Tom, the entire catalog of the younger man stored in his core. He would meditate upon it and sort it all out. He would know the youngster in every way possible, as is right between bonded mates and then he would show him what marvels they would share. Into Tom's mind he had made the bond and now it was time to comfort him and seal the moment with flesh. Rell brushed Tom's tears away, tasting his fingers, marveling at the tang of salt. Red rimmed eyes fluttered open, dazed blue gazing at him. Rell caressed Tom's cheek, the younger man turning his face into Rell's hand. Rell smiled.

"Kiss me," Tom whispered.

"We don't do that among my kind," Rell replied equally as softly.

"Please. Kiss me," Tom repeated turning his face toward Rell.

Rell paused contemplating the request and opened his core to what would follow. He lowered his mouth to Tom's and they met, the softness surprising Rell and he pressed against Tom, startled when Tom opened his mouth. He fell into the sweetness inside, drowning on the rush of feelings and emotions that met him as he sucked on Tom's tongue, the soft feel of his lips nearly Rell's undoing. He broke the kiss, staring at Tom for a long moment and then moving closer kissing him again. They shared Rell's first kisses, the room still but for a soft whimper from Tom as the alien overcome by the taste nearly hurt him in his lust.

Rell lay back, his heart pounding as he felt the fire between his legs building. Tom rose, laying his hand on Rell's chest, stroking tattooed pects that were alien and strange. Tom gazed into Rell's eyes and felt the alien move his hand down to his throbbing cock, folding Tom's hand around it as he closed his eyes in silence. He would not be disappointed this time. They lay together in the end, the silence of the room reflecting Rell's way. They were silent in all things. All things. With a huge sigh of relief he willed the boy to sleep as he finished the link between them. It was complete and the boy was his. Rell smiled and caressed the flushed satiated face cradled under his chin. He was complete and content. This boy was his.

*****************************Tom's Academy days

Star Fleet Academy, San Francisco...

Tom and Julian Bashir hit it off terrifically. They had spent the entire day talking, walking around the local area and by nightfall they were in the Pedestrian Quad, that flower filled marvel that Star Fleet Headquarters had established for the people of San Francisco. It was one of the most popular make out places in the city and every night couples walked through its fragrant confines. Julian and Tom were no different. As Tom walked along talking about his desire to spend time in France, he felt himself dragged into a particularly thick set of bushes that spilled over a broad area, their white flowers filling the air with lovely perfume. They stopped in the middle shrouded on all sides by shrubbery and stared at each other, waiting.

Tom, his surprise ebbing reached out his hands and kissed Julian. The once unthinkable sensation was astonishing. It exploded in his mind that this wonderful feeling was not being generated by a woman. He broke the kiss, both men staring at each other with arousal on their face. Julian stepped closer slipping his arms around Tom, his warm breath soft against Tom's chin. They had been lovers for a short time but it was transformative. Tom had never been with men until now. "If we get caught here, I am toast. Ny old man will kill me. Literally."

Julian chuckled and they walked down the street to an all night diner. Tom had made a new discovery, one that would factor heavily in his future but for now, there was only Julian, a hot cup of coffee and the night.

Sophomore Year...

Tom was spending more and more time at the tasks of being a Star Fleet officer and less time at home. His mother made a ritual of their Sunday time together and he made it sacrosanct. That was no one's time but hers. Between school, Julian and dates with his mother he had little free time. However, he was making progress on a number of fronts. Fewer and fewer people were taking him to be a daddy's boy. He had carved a niche for himself that included respectable achievement, growing fame as a pilot and friendships, especially with three other pilots, one of whom was a French girl named Odile. She was beautiful, funny and French. She was a great pilot and friend. From her he learned about the Star Fleet campus in Marseilles. He was determined to spend part of his junior year there to get some taste of the splendors of France, a fascination since his childhood.

His father promoted to fifth in line from the top expected Tom to come to parties and functions that he attended ostensibly to show off his son, inheritor of The Legacy. As many as he could he missed. Only when his mother asked him did he come. She did not ask often, mercifully. Whenever he was around his father he felt a tiny bit of smugness. He was involved in a quiet affair with a man and his father, collector of the most insignificant minutia of his life did not know. He found knowing something his father didn't filled him with a sense of power and freedom. It amused him how little it took to feel this way.

His father would never approve. He had heard Owen criticize men he knew who were involved with other men and even though he hadn't ever heard of his father's 'position' on the question of lesbians, he was sure it was as narrow as it was regarding men. He was the thing that his father didn't care for and it amused him terribly. Julian was his own private garden and he would take care that his father never knew about them.

One particular evening after spending time with the library interface, his eyes burning with study, he heard a knock on his door. He was alone in his room, his roommate off on some kind of trek somewhere. "Come."

The door opened and Julian looked in, a smile on his face. Tom smiled back as the older boy sat on the bed of his roommate. Old Tight Ass would surely enjoy knowing that he thought idly. "I was thinking of you all day." Julian said his voice a low sultry purr, the one he always had when he wanted to have sex.

"What were you doing?" Tom replied enjoying the game of seduction they always played.

"I was doing autopsies."

Tom groaned, standing and pulling Julian to his feet. They kissed and then Tom pushed Julian onto his own bed, lying down on top of him and relaxing. Julian's arms encircled him and they lay still. For a moment.

Moments later ...

"My old man would kill me if he saw this."

"Your old man is an ass," Julian said with a grin. "I think he's the only one left alive who does isn't he?"

"I really don't care, Julian. For the first time in my life, I don't give a damn." For a moment he thought about his dad's views and laughed out loud to the ceiling.

**********************Tom'

Summary: The demands of school, flying and Julian's imminent graduation begin to end the first relationship with a man that Tom ever had...

If someone had told Tom that he would only have a year with Julian he would have smirked that smartass smirk and walked away laughing. They were close, physically and emotionally and it seemed like things would go on forever. Yet, life has a way of fucking you over when you least expect it and it all began with Julian's career.

Star Fleet Academy, Student Union...

"I will only be gone for a short time, Tom. It is a good thing doing this," Julian explained in his passionate way.

"Six months is hardly a short time." Tom stared at Julian, his heart sinking. He thought that for the first time in his life he actually loved someone besides his mother. Julian was just about the biggest force in his life.

"It will fly by, truly," Julian reassured him.

There was really little to do. Julian had agreed to go and that was that. He would intern at a forward base hospital and by that time he would have finished his requirements for graduation. He would then be assigned duty and Tom, just about to begin his junior year would have to be left behind. They had talked around this eventuality but had settled nothing. It was insurmountable and so Tom buried his broken heart and made an effort to make their waning days as happy as he could manage. On the last night before he left they went to a hotel on the bay and made love all night. It was desperate and final. For Julian it was just a brief break in the love affair. He would be with Tom eventually. It was just a matter of logistics. He loved the blue-eyed boy with his whole heart.

Tom on the other hand, was more aware of how fatal separation was to romance in Star Fleet. He knew that they were over. He knew it as surely as he knew his name. He would get on, seeing Julian when they could manage but it would not be the same again. The next day they embraced at the terminal, holding each other against their sorrow. No one said a word. They just held each other and with a bittersweet kiss Julian walked out of Tom's heart forever.

Three weeks later...

A very quiet Tom Paris took up residence in his dorm room at the Star Fleet Academy branch in Marseilles. He was hurting over Julian and wondering if the change was the right thing. He would still see his mother but it would take more work. Odile was here as were others, mostly the Euro cadets, so it wasn't totally foreign. But it was a lonely time, this beginning. He found himself wandering the streets in his free time, aimlessly going here and there and that is how on the waterfront he met Sandrine.

Six months later...

Tom sipped his beer and watched as his opponent missed a tough shot. He sat the glass down and proceeded to clear the table. He had become a shark, skilled with a cue in the same way he was skilled with a ship. Hand eye coordination was all it took. That and nerves of steel.

Tom had nerve.

Over the months in Marseilles he carved for himself a niche that was his alone. Chez Sandrine became his home away from home and he spent his days at school and at play. The locals had come to know him and many invited him to their homes for dinner and conversation. He ate great food, drank real wine and perfected his French with experts. The women of France fascinated him with their beauty and self-assurance. He liked strong women and availed himself of their charms as often as they would let him. And they let him.

The women he met liked the handsome boy, tall, slim and blond. He went home with them, availing himself of their beds. He avoided men, although he watched many with an appreciative eye. Things were still too raw with Julian. He could not bring himself to lie down on a man and not imagine it was Julian. He ached for the touch of male skin, the taste of a man in his mouth and on his lips. The kiss of much leaner lips against his... all this he missed. He missed it but he let it go. It was too soon. He would lose himself in the lush bodies of the beautiful women he pursued. Later when it was less painful would he seek the pleasure of another man.

Near the end of his junior year...

Tom spent his days working and flying and his nights prowling the city of Marseilles, alone or with his squad mates. His reputation as a pilot was nearly equal to his reputation as a lady's man. He was well thought of by his peers but too few knew him well. He was an enigma. Outgoing and personable, fun to be with and generous, but he also was closed off, guarded and not an easy man to know. Those who tried only got so far and then there was no moving past the walls that surrounded his vulnerable heart. He had spent a day or two here and there with Julian, a meeting halfway between their two points and they had a passionate time together. Julian wanted to talk of the future but Tom steered clear of that topic expertly each time it came up. By the third visit, Tom was clear in his mind. He would not be seeing Julian again. He would always be required elsewhere and he was. He would not see Julian again for nearly twenty years when he would walk onto DS9 with his children...

Star Fleet Headquarters, Admiral Paris' Office...

Owen Paris went over his son's grades with a fine toothed comb. There had been a small even minuscule drop since Tom had moved to Marseilles. Owen frowned over that. Tom obviously was availing himself of the local delights. He sighed. That boy always wanted to go to France. He personally didn't know why. There was no point. Very little existed there that would help in the career climb to the top. Owen sipped his coffee, staring at the Pedestrian Quad below from his window in an office three doors down from the Admiral, Commanding, Star Fleet. He was determined that he would get there. It was in the cards. It was all he ever wanted. And someday with a little effort and a lot of guidance from him, his boy, Thomas Eugene Paris, would sit in that office too.

A comm channel beeped and he answered it, the padd with his son's academic record still in his hand. "Paris."

"Admiral, Commodore ben Aaron is ready to go to the meeting with you." Saren, his secretary spoke in his even tones waiting for a reply for the Commodore.

"Tell Commodore ben Aaron I will be by his office immediately."

"Yes, sir," Saren said cutting his transmission. Paris always had Vulcan staff. They were scrupulous, hard working and they didn't snoop. They were perfect.

He rose and tucked the padd into his case insuring a longer perusal later on when he had more time. Right now he had to meet the rather formidable ben Aaron and go to a meeting about a new and troublesome force. A group calling itself the Maquis was forming along the border and he was in charge of intelligence. He had to find out what and who they were. With a sigh he left his office, the door hissing shut behind him.

End of junior year...

Tom sighed and finished packing his bag. He was due in twenty minutes at the transporter station nearby to go back to the Academy in San Francisco. He had spent the night before with Sandrine drinking good wine and talking far into the night. She had coaxed him to stay. They had shared a bed and each other's bodies into the wee hours of the morning. He had showered and dressed as she lay there watching him with her tiger eyes and he had kissed her good bye with intense regret. He had grown to love her, love her in a way that was hard to define. She was a friend that would live in his heart forever. No matter where he went he sensed Sandrine would go with him. Tom looked around his room and sighed. Picking up his bag, he went down the hallway and out the door to leave France behind. It was an interlude that would be among his fondest memories, lingering sweetly behind even after the decline of his life began.

Sandrine would figure largely in his redemption as surely as she figured so deeply in his heart.

Star Fleet Academy, San Francisco, beginning of Tom's senior year...

Nova Squadron was the apex of Academy achievement for pilots. The competition was cut throat and the payoff big in terms of career advancement and prestige. Tom Paris had been made Commander of the Squadron signaling his undisputed position as Top Gun among all of his peers. Odile had made it as had two other close friends. They were the cream of the cream of the crop. They had a closeness, a camaraderie that only pilots achieve. It was a glorious moment in a long hard climb and Tom relished it like he had nothing else before. Tom Paris had achieved the pinnacle himself. His father was nowhere in sight as he stood at the top of Olympus surveying all before him with a kind of silent pride that he could not put into words. He had made his break with his father and now he was truly a man.

At the top of the mountain, alone in his moment, Tom Paris did not see the slippery slope waiting for him and when he fell, falling down that treacherous and deadly path to the bottom, even the gods would weep.

********************Tom

A beeping sound filled his ears as he struggled to awaken. It continued at regular intervals but he could not identify the source of the sound. It was very still and he was very tired. He drifted off into the darkness...

/... there was a flash, terrible in its intensity and then the sound of rending metal... a cry and then silence... a flash again and again... over and over and over.../

The nurse checked his patient making sure that the machinery attached was functioning correctly. He touched the boy's face, the pale skin clammy and took a wet cool towel from a bowl. Gently he patted the boy's face touching it softly, unwilling to disturb him more than necessary. This boy, Tom Paris was his patient and he took his responsibilities very seriously. In Intensive Care there was no margin for error so he monitored his charge with care. The silence was peaceful and the dimmed lighting restful as the nurse put the towel back into the cold container. He noted vitals on his padd and then turned to go. The boy moved restlessly, a groan passing his lips. The nurse paused and checked the monitors once more. Convinced that the boy was all right, he turned and left the room.

/...it had all happened so fast, the noise and smoke and terror too much to grasp... it wasn't supposed to happen and they weren't supposed to die but they did... they spiraled out of control and they died... they cried into his head gear their terror and agony... he cried back but there was no one left to hear him.../

The fog shifted from time to time and he swam to the surface as best he could although it was hard to move, impossible to think. He heard soft sounds, groaning but he didn't know where they came from. They were so far away...

/... Tom! I don't... I can't...! Help me! Help me please!... /

Owen Paris paced back and forth, his anger and fear dueling for control of his mind. He fought them both for they were the enemy. If he didn't handle this right everything that he hoped for and worked for his whole life was over. He had read the reports, sketchy information at best and he knew that there would be an investigation. He knew that his son was at fault. He *knew* it from the bottom of his heart. Now it was all nerves and control. He would have to work fast. Tom would be kept here until he did what he had to do. Then it would be a matter of getting on with his life. He would know that this was just a lesson. If you wanted to be a leader you had better be prepared to take a few losses. This was just the casualties of war. Friendly fire. He would explain it, then they would move on.

With that thought in mind, Owen Paris began to formulate the report that his son would send to Star Fleet HQ...

The next day...

The room was dark and still as Owen Paris stepped in, his eyes scanning the still form on the bed. Tom was pale and sleeping, a frown on his face. He was alive which was more than three other sets of parents could say but something about that fact disturbed Owen deeply. He knew he wanted his son to be what he was. That was the dream his father had and his father's father but somehow deep in his heart, Owen Paris knew the dream would die with him. He stared at the boy laying silently and anger began to build. It burned in him, filling him with rage as he thought how he was the last Paris male man enough to be what they were supposed to be.

He would never understand how Tom could not see what that meant. They were special. They had proved themselves over and over, working for the betterment of the Federation. Yet here in this bed was the end result of eleven generations of tradition and effort. Here was the first fuck up in Paris family history and Owen Paris found himself wishing that his only son had died along with the other three youngsters. He moved closer, touching Tom's cold hand and felt nothing. It was as if any emotional connection he had with his son was severed as surely as if he had died.

Tom moved restlessly, his eyes fluttering open and he looked at the blur in front of him. He blinked rapidly until he could see that his father was there holding his hand.

Owen dropped Tom's hand and moved closer staring at him with near hatred on his face. "Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

Tom blinked and nodded.

"Very well. Listen good, boy. I will only tell this once. I have taken care of everything. There will be no formal inquiry. You will be released from this hospital and returned to the house in San Francisco for recuperation. You are not to talk to anyone about this. Do you understand?"

Tom gasped, his throat dry and sore. He nodded.

Owen shook his head, a look of contempt crossing his face. "I don't know who you are. I don't know how you could come from my family. You are a fuck up, did you know that? You are the first fuck up in the Paris family history."

Tom closed his eyes, tears slipping from them as he tried to shut out the words his father whispered to him. It was too much. It was all just too much.

"You will come home and then when you are well you will get on with your career. You are to stay out of trouble and not fuck up again. Is that clear?"

Tom didn't answer. He felt a strong hand grip his chin and turn his face. Blinking against the pain he stared into the ice cold eyes of his father.

"Is that clear, boy?" Owen fairly hissed as he leaned into Tom's face.

Tom nodded and Owen let go. He stared at Tom and sighed. He felt nothing, nothing at all for his son. Turning to go he paused and looked back at the boy lying on the bed softly weeping. "Thomas Eugene, if you open your mouth again about this you will deal with me. Do you understand?"

Tom looked at his father and nodded. His meaning was clear. Without another word Owen Paris left. He took a shuttle home to San Francisco and once there he forged his son's signature on a report that placed the blame for the accident on Odile.

Five months later following graduation from the Academy...

Tom Paris sat in the window seat near the big window overlooking the sea. The surf crashed and the sound reverberated through out the house, each pulsating burst a dagger through his heart. He had come home, disabled and distraught from his first posting and was recuperating in the company of his mother. He was agitated, nervous and fearful and his mother had taken time to stay with him. She had left the house for a moment and he was alone.

The front door opened and closed as Owen Paris walked in putting his work on the table in the foyer. He noticed his son sitting silently on the couch and walked to the wet bar for a drink. Tom's eyes followed him as he poured scotch, neat and took a big swallow.

"Why did you do it?" Tom asked his heart pounding in his chest.

"What?" Owen asked turning to his son, eyeing him like he was some sort of lower life form.

"You forged my name on that report that blamed Odile for the accident. It was my mistake but you made it hers."

Owen sipped his drink and sighed. "Fortunes of war, Thomas Eugene."

For a moment there was no sound, then Tom sighed. "I'm going to tell them."

Owen grinned. "You would, wouldn't you. You will compound your crime by being stupid too. All you have to do is shut your mouth."

"I can't. Odile didn't do this. I did."

"No one will believe you. Do you actually think anyone would take your word over mine? I'm due for promotion. I will be the fourth heartbeat from the top and what are you? You're nothing."

Tom sat silently, the hateful words penetrating to his heart. He felt adjustments, internal and emotional as the full impact of his father's words exploded inside of him. Tom rose and stared at his father. "If I tell the truth, they will let me stay. I just have to tell the truth."

Owen grinned. "Go ahead. See what telling the truth does for you."

Tom turned walking to the door.

"If you go out that door you may never come back. I will have no son."

Tom paused, his nausea rising inside of him. He turned and stared at Owen for a long moment memorizing the man for his nightmares. "That's all right, Dad. I haven't had a father since I was born."

He left the house moving toward his destiny, leaving his father behind him. Owen stood a long time, his mind drifting over memories which he erased as they filled his mind. Turning to the comm link next to him, he made a call to an Admiral that owed him. Tom could say whatever he wanted. He would make sure no one heard a word he said.

It was a forgone conclusion ben Aaron thought as he read the news brief. Tom Paris, son of Admiral Owen Paris was courtmartialed and dishonorably discharged from Star Fleet early this morning. He had lied on a report filed following the death of his wing mates at Caldik Prime. ben Aaron shook his head, his mind ruminating over Owen Paris. He had not expressed a word or an emotion over this matter since it had become general news. It was as if it had not happened.

Miriam had gone and stood with her son but Owen refused. ben Aaron felt his dislike intensify for Owen Paris. He had a son and he had not stood with him when he needed him most. He could only imagine the life that boy had had living under the thumb of Owen Paris. Miriam had stood with her boy and he could relate to that. She had his respect and sympathy. Owen Paris? He would never be able to like or trust him again.

Marseilles, a rainy night two months later...

It was pouring rain and he huddled in a doorway trying to stay dry. It had been a while since he had been sober and he had been on the streets for some time. He had been pursued by news men demanding to know all about the Admiral's lying son. His mother had done what she could but he slipped away and crawled into a bottle. They came to him in the night, in his dreams and he struggled not to dream. Their faces were deformed by injury and fire and they cried to him for help. He couldn't help them. He couldn't help himself. He was beyond reach now and there was only one way to go.

A big man ran across the street and huddled under the awning with him. He appraised the slender blond smelling of whiskey and moved to him pressing him against the wall. He checked him for money and found he had none, cursing his luck that there were so few marks when it rained like this. Sighing deeply he stared into the handsome face of the young man leaning against him oblivious to his own danger and smiled. There were other things one could take besides money. With that he turned and pulled the young man into the alley.

**************Chakottay

Star Fleet HQ, San Francisco, in front of the Pedestrian Quad...

Chakotay stood on the steps staring around the familiar landmarks of many good days gone by. It had been a long time since he had been a fresh-faced cadet eager to get on with the dream he had since he was seven. Those days had faded replaced with the grim reality that made up adulthood. He was here, summoned by Command to discuss his 'loyalty'. Although they used other less offensive and straight forward language, he knew the powers on high were concerned if he were a security risk.

His entire family had become partisans in the Maquis and even though he was torn he could not bring himself to quit Star Fleet. There was a need for a frontier presence in that organization and his dream, consuming his life from a very young age had not faded.

When he was summoned he was stunned. He had his job thoroughly. He had given up a lot to be a part of Star Fleet. It had cost a lot in his relationship with his father. Now the very thing he loved he was finding didn't love him back. Chakotay walked to a bench and sat down, his tired mind traveling backward to his time in the Academy. It all seemed possible then, everything attainable if you worked hard enough.

His aptitude tests gave him many avenues of opportunity and he chose the golden one, Command. Training as a pilot he began the roundhouse rotation that a Command candidate had to follow. It was not enough to be a commander of a ship. It was necessary to be competent at most of the ship's functions and departments as well. That is why most candidates did not finish the program.  
Chakotay did. He finished with honors and the confidence of his instructors, granting the opportunity to chose his assignment from a number offered.

Just before graduation Chakotay made a major step forward in the way he lived his life. He began a relationship with someone that was public and long-lasting. He fell in love with a tall gangling easy-going man named William Riker.

Denali National Park, Alaska...

The two men hiked for miles into the rugged wilderness of the ancient Denali National Park. Fording rivers and camping, not seeing anyone but each other for days, they were celebrating their leave with the usual flare. Mountain climbing, hang gliding, cycling for miles through empty spaces, the two men began their friendship with a shared interest in athletic adventures. Will Riker had grown up in southcentral Alaska and had become an outdoorsman in spite of himself. Chakotay had grown up in a traditional family with a traditional father.

They were evenly matched. Both eschewed the natural life for one in Star Fleet. Both had fathers who had wishes for their futures and both were independent minded and strong. They had found each other in their senior year, a sense of compatibility forming almost at the moment of contact. They were a lot alike and they were nothing alike. It made for a strong combustibility.

One day after a particularly strenuous regime of weightlifting, Chakotay had gone with Will to his dorm room and there they shared an illicit bottle of real wine that Riker had smuggled in. Halfway through the bottle they had shared their first kiss and by the end of it they were sharing their bodies as well.

Chakotay had known he was gay since he was ten when he had haltingly confided his strange interest in boys to his adored and adoring older brother, Nayib. Nubby had listened quietly and explained that some people were that way from the time they were born. Chakotay instinctively recognizing how it might affect his relationships with others concealed this from his family and swore Nubby to secrecy. Nayib had honored his promise. No one else knew.

Chakotay had made the effort of dating girls in school but found his mission to gain the academic standing for Star Fleet made it easy to appear too studious to be much interested in women. The mere act of going to the Academy took a great deal of pressure off him and he launched himself into his studies with ruthless abandon. It was not until midway into his freshman year that a simple stroll through San Francisco one cool evening changed his life forever.

The Castro area, the famed historic district once populated to a great degree by gays in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries was now a mixed neighborhood with clubs, restaurants and historical houses. Lots of people frequented the area known for its tolerance and easy-going ambiance and he had ambled down to see for himself what it was like. For the first time he saw men walking hand in hand with other men. Women, some conversing in intimate proximity sipped coffee in curbside cafes. He continued down the street, his head spinning from the sight of people interacting together the way anyone would even though many of them were gay.

He stopped outside a club, the sound of music and the smell of food and liquor drifting out on the soft evening air. Chakotay took a deep breath and walked inside wincing at the loudness of the music and found a place near the back of the bar where he could stand, sip beer and watch. There was a mixed crowd, men and women, men with men, women with women. Two men near to where he stood were dancing to the music, their arms tightly around each other and every so often they would kiss. It sent a jolt through Chakotay, a need and a recognition that nearly dropped him in his tracks. He had never seen anything like it. As he watched a tall handsome older man walked over and smiled, leaning on the bar in front of him invading his space. "Hi. You're new here, aren't you?"

Chakotay nodded, licking his lips. "I'm a cadet at the Academy."

The older man smiled. "First year?"

"Um, yes," Chakotay answered blushing at the stammer in his voice. His heart beat furiously as he tried not to notice how close the stranger's lips were to his.

"So, can I buy you a drink?"

Chakotay picked up his beer and smiled, self conscious as could be and slightly embarrassed. "I have a beer."

"Well then, dance with me." The stranger, his warm eyes filled with amusement leaned in closer. "I don't bite. Much."

Chakotay looked at the man's mouth, so close to his and nodded. A big hand slipped into his and he was led into the crowd where the stranger took him into his arms and holding Chakotay's body tightly against his own began to dance slowly to the music. Chakotay overwhelmed by the musk of the man holding him and the atmosphere of the club melted into his partner's body laying his head on the taller man's shoulder, his contentment complete. It was as if they were alone.

They danced all night, talking together and at one o'clock in the morning Chakotay went home with the tall man who went by the name of John. He lived nearby in a large house and they went there, walking through the evening crowds hand in hand. Once inside John pulled Chakotay into his arms and kissed him. Over and over he kissed the eighteen year old boy, seducing him into his bed. Chakotay was helpless to resist and so when they lay down together skin on skin, he gave in completely. John made love to his body as Chakotay floated away on an ocean of pleasure and for the first time felt another man's body against his own.

He learned how to reciprocate giving pleasure and that night he found a sense of peace that had been missing all of his life. In his job he would be with women. He would bed some and court others but he would never love one. He would only be able to give his heart to a man.

Star Fleet HQ, Pedestrian Quad...

Chakotay felt the weak sun warm his face as he thought over the past and all the memories that came from this place. He had fallen in love here for the first time, entered a public relationship and moved in with his first lover.

After their graduation, Will and Chakotay had been posted to their first ships. They had done excellent work and applied to graduate studies back at the Academy. As full ensigns they were able to live off campus in a small apartment on a nearby street down from the main library.

They lived together with as much finesse as two young men can have. There was little in their apartment to show who they were. It had the rumpled look that bachelors often adopt when out of the supervising eye of a woman such as mom. It was perfect.

They worked at their studies all day and explored the local environs by night, dancing and roaming with abandon. They were young boys with a future and they were in love. It was all too perfect.

After that course of study, Will was given a placement on another ship and Chakotay was accepted for tactical studies necessitating another break up. It was a terrible blow to them both, living away again. The separations of a Star Fleet career were usually in the long run the death of a relationship. But they promised to be faithful in the way that all lovers do.

Two months after he shipped out, Will Riker met Deanna Troi.

Star Fleet Headquarters, Pedestrian Quad...

Chakotay stood and paced down the walkway revisiting the places he saw for what might be the last time. He knew that he was now suspect. He knew that there would be people who would never trust him because of the Maquis tie to his name. All of his life he had wanted what he had and now it was slipping away from him. He had been made Lt. Commander and was First Officer on a ship when he was recalled. He had heard that others were too. Some of the people he knew and others he didn't. It was as if there was a Maquis purge going on and he was next in line for the ax to fall.

He would not survive the inquisition.

For a long time he stood staring at the landscape of much of his memories and nearly all of his happiness. The beautiful grounds of Star Fleet had beckoned him and he came here to fulfill a dream. He gave his heart and soul to the pursuit of his dreams and he had succeeded. He had been fast tracked to great things. It would be up to him how far he would go.

But now, it all lay in ashes at his feet. It was not his family's fault. There were where he should be doing what he should do. Here he was waiting for the ax to fall and what did it all mean in the end? In the sunshine and quiet of that corner of the Quad he reached the hardest decision of his life until that time. He turned and walked down the sidewalk and into the main office of Star Fleet Headquarters. On the day of March 3rd, Chakotay resigned his commission and headed back to the frontier where he belonged.

Marseilles, homeless shelter...

Tom sat shivering, the chill of the spring rain ever present. He sipped his coffee, spilling some of it on his numbed shaking fingers as he wound down through his latest hangover. He had not eaten in a while and he had been beaten once by someone somewhere but he didn't know or care who it might be. The shelter knew him, taking him in, letting him dry out. When he was sober he would hustle pool and get enough money to get drunk again. There would be a little money left usually for the illicit drugs that still could be had and he would become prey once again for anyone who came upon him.

He was thin and tired, worn down from drink and drugs and going downward in spiral that he appeared to have little concern over. It was a sad sight to see. For one it was an opportunity. Louis Marquette stood in the doorway, his eyes appraising the disheveled boy sitting by the window. He had seen him around before, once talking to a woman with a sad expression on her face. He would not have noticed but there was something in the ragged youngster that bespoke elegance and class.

Louis Marquette, criminal, opportunist and all around dangerous man had an eye for beauty. He had the knack for seeing in something the potential that others missed. With a smile of resolve, he walked over to the table.

Bleary blue eyes looked up at him blinking as they tried to focus. "Do I know you?" The voice was hoarse but the French inflection was perfect. Marquette sat down leaning forward on his elbows and smiled. "No. You don't. But my friend, you will."

********TBC (c1998)


	3. Chapter 3

Read disclaimer in the first part. Part 3

**********************  
A River Flows (c1998)  
Part Eleven to Fifteen

Marseilles...

It had been months since he had lost himself in a medicated flurry of misery. He was as healthy as he had been in over a year. Yet in his sobriety he was a still a prisoner of his own actions and he had to escape.

It was wet outside, the spring rain falling softly on the old streets of the city. Tom pushed back the curtains and pressed his face against the pane, listening to the droplets as they hit the glass. The apartment was his prison and his warden a man without much pity for those who defied him.

Tom had fled early on and Louis had caught him, his spies everywhere doing his bidding. They had returned him and Louis had beaten him senseless. He didn't try again. Tom lived here, pacing restlessly until he heard footsteps in the hall that signaled the worst part of his day. Tom was expected to make conversation, be compliant and in the end they would go to bed.

Louis wanted a companion and Tom, his nerves fraying did his best. Now on this rainy day, he knew he could not go on much longer. He had to leave. It was soon or never. Since becoming sober he had time to think and he wanted another chance. Tom wanted to go to the frontier where no one knew him and start over. He was strong now and he could work, maybe fly again and make his own way. He couldn't stay here. It was too hard to pretend that the touch of Louis' hands didn't revolt him.

For days he planned his getaway, going through all the steps with almost a ritualistic fervor. Before he was sloppy, leaving through the front door and walking to the transport station. He wasn't thinking clearly then. He was now and it would be different. He would take more steps and time it better. Louis would be with some clients, some people who were buying a couple of ships and some guns. It was the Maquis, Tom was sure, and it would be a transaction that would give him enough time to flee. A shuttle service to the outlands was set to go at noon the following day. He would be on it. All it took was the nerve to go. All it took was getting through one more night with Louis.

**************Frontier...

Chakotay had been organizing and training Maquis for several months and cells were organizing all over the disputed frontier. They had begun guerrilla activity, striking and fleeing, assassinations, destruction of property their signature. It was diverting Cardassian attention from a number of predations against some of the planets farthest from Federation territory.

It was draining but it fed the hardness inside of him. He had gone into the Maquis with a ruthless resolve and his talents were used to the fullest. Bey had gone to the Federation to buy weapons and ships. Nayib had been enveloped in such deep misery that he had joined a group that specialized in destroying installations and other highly important well guarded targets.

Bey had received word that Nayib was taking chances and was a risk to his cell so Bey had persuaded him to join him and he did. He was sick and strained, ready to break. It would be good to be with Bey. It would in the long run save his life.

Chakotay had gone to ground attacking Cardassian shipping and disrupting their communications. He was a formidable force piloting his ship with his hand-picked crew. The Cardassians did not know his name yet but they had already targeted him for infiltration. They had assigned someone from the Obsidian Order to find out what they could.

Her name was Seska.

****************************Marseilles...

Louis finished brushing his hair, his mind wandering over the deal he would make today. It would be the first of many and he was very pleased. He could care less about the Maquis. They were just a source of cash, a steady entry into the ledger book. Louis straightened his shirt and walked back into the bedroom. Tom was sleeping on his stomach, the sheet rumpled around his waist. Tom's soft pale skin gleamed in the morning light as Louis stood gazing at his most beloved possession.

Walking over to the bed, he sat beside Tom leaning down to kiss his shoulder, his fingers softly stroking Tom's back. He would never get enough of the sensation. With great reluctance, he kissed Tom's shoulder again and rose, grabbing his jacket to walk out the door.

Tom pretended to be asleep until he could hear the front door close. Then he jumped up and ran to the window, peering down as Louis boarded a shuttle. For a moment he stood shivering and then he moved. Slipping on his clothes, he took a case and filled it with more. He went to the false brick in the fireplace and took out his identification padd and enough money to last a while. He stuffed it in his pockets, bitter thoughts of wages earned filling his mind. He picked up his coat, slipping it on, then grabbed his case.

Moving to the window in the living room that opened onto the old fashioned iron fire escape, he slipped out and down the steps to the street thanking the gods that Louis was a traditional man in his tastes in housing. With a deep breath, Tom Paris walked down the alley way for several city blocks, then caught a transport to the off-world station. If his luck held he would be on his way to the frontier in hours.

**********************Marseilles...

Louis left the meeting, a grin on his face. The big Maquis had driven a tough deal but they had finally made a contract that both men could live with. He would have steady business for his arms contacts and lots of money in his accounts. There were enough middle men built in that no one would be able to blame him for it if any part of the deal fell through. It was perfect.

He had his driver take him to a liquor store where he picked up a vintage bottle of wine. Tonight he would celebrate the deal with Tom. Tonight would be a memorable night for them both. He smiled and turned to go home.

**************************Frontier bar...

Chakotay sat at a table facing the door and watched the patrons drink and talk. It had been a long day and he was tired. Tonight he had no responsibilities and he wanted to forget anything having to do with the war and the Maquis. Tonight Chakotay wanted a good meal, a cold drink and a warm body to lose himself in. He sighed and sipped his  
beer watching for any hot prospects. There were few.

One, a slender young woman with more than a few miles on her walked up and smiled at him as she leaned over, her cleavage on clear display. "You look lonely. Could you use some company?"

Her smile was a little too tight and her manner a little too weary.

Chakotay sighed. "Not for what your selling."

She stood up straight eying him for a moment, then she left, walking over to the bar. A young man, dark haired and slim stood silently as she whispered into his ear. He nodded and walked over, sitting down beside Chakotay. "I hear you might be lonesome for company."

Chakotay shrugged. "Maybe."

The younger man slipped his hand down sliding it along Chakotay's thigh and down his crotch, massaging gently. Chakotay sighed and put his beer down on the table. Taking the roaming hand into his own he rose, pulling the young man to his feet. Without another word they both left the bar.

************************Marseilles...

Tom walked down the crowded aisle of the shuttle nervously looking for a seat. He found an empty one and slid into it, his relief only minor. He would not feel safe until he was off this planet. A big man sat across from him, his dark eyes appraising Tom . Tom licked his lips and nodded. The big man nodded, a friendly smile on his face. Tom nervously looked out the window not trusting himself to speak, watching the ground crew ready the ship for lift off. He didn't notice how the big man smiled to himself, as if he had been madeprivy to a private joke. He had actually and it amused him deeply.

**************************A hotel room on the frontier...

Chakotay made little pretense of what he wanted and the boy was quick to obey his simple demands. They lay on the bed, Chakotay losing himself in the warm body of the stranger, forgetting himself with anonymous sex. He found himself disinterested in most men he met. He was restless with himself, not permitting himself to find someone to care about. People you cared about died. When the restlessness got too much to handle he would hire someone, a warm body and go to bed. He would purge himself against warm skin, exorcise his demons for just a moment with another's lips, using someone elses body until  
his heart felt ready to burst.

When he was done he could leave. There would be no obligation. Being with the younger man he felt himself falling away, removing himself from the misery that dogged him every day. For a moment he was just a man like anyone else and in the cleansing fire of another's body, he became clean.

********************Marseilles...

Louis Marquette walked into his apartment, a bottle of wine in his hands. A good dinner would be delivered from his favorite Italian restaurant and they would dine together. He hung his coat up listening for Tom. There was no sound. He walked through the rooms checking everywhere. He walked to the fireplace pulling the stone away and he knew then that Tom had fled. Turning to the comm link he began to call anyone who owed him a favor. He would have Tom returned  
before the sun set.

********************Marseilles...

The shuttle lifted off and when it had cleared the last planet of the Sol System, the shuttle slipped into warp headed for the outlands. Tom relaxed sighing his relief with closed eyes. The big man sitting across from him watched him with curious eyes. He was on his way home. He expected it to be a dull journey. Little did it ever occur to him that he would make that journey sitting across from the renegade son of his nemesis, Owen Paris.

Beyvahl settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. They had made their deal and had a new connection for weapons and ships. It had been a productive day all in all.

A River Flows: Tom...

Intersect: Part Twelve

Summary: Tom arrives on the frontier determined to save his own life...

Dockside, a forgotten frontier planet...

He stood on the dock, his hands jammed into his pockets and his feet shifting with cold and nerves. It was icy on the windows, winter coming to this forgotten piece of the universe.

Tom Campbell stood huddled, a dock worker waiting to be called. He worked day by day building his slim body back into shape from what he told people was a long illness.

Nearby a whore plied her trade, her goods on display for anyone to see beneath the open front of her long furry coat. Long legs sheathed in black stockings rose from stiletto heels. A white thong panty covered her and the rest? It was bared, flashed open to any passersby. Her small round breasts beckoned anyone who had the money to possess her for a few moments.

She turned and walked toward him, a fake smile on her too shiny mouth. A pink tongue ran along the shiny red of her lips, her dark eyes closing to a sleepy look of calculated sexuality and long dark curls hung past her shoulders. She was someone's idea of a wet dream but she stirred nothing in him.

Campbell stared at the ground, his blue eyes shuttered against remembered pain and tried to imagine her gone. She stopped in front of him, her coat wide open and her hands on her hips, her pelvis thrust forward.

"So, baby, interested?"

Tom stared at her, his eyes filled with a private hell and shook his head. He managed a weak smile and stepped away from her.

"Hey, I won't bite you," she said following him, looking him over for a moment. "You know, you're the best looking man I have seen in a long time. Certainly the cleanest."

He didn't answer. He just stared into space waiting to be called for work. She looked at him, his obvious classy persona clearly at odds with his surroundings.

"So, you work on the docks too?"

He glanced at her catching her sardonic smile and grinned in spite of himself. He shook his head. She closed her coat and moved closer pulling a capsule from her pocket and sniffing something. For a moment she was stilled, absorbing the powder she had inhaled and then she blinked, her eyes bright and dilated. She held it out to him and he demurred. With a shrug she put the capsule back into her coat.

"So, you need work?"

"Yeah. I need work."

"Why waste it on the docks? At least doing this? Why not try something else?"

"Such as?" he asked already knowing her answer.

"Doing what I do. You can make a lot more money in one night of this than you can in a month on the docks. You know, there are a lot more men here than women and the boys make good money fucking the workers. With your looks and class, you could retire in a week."

He shook his head, once again demurring and she sighed.

"You know it isn't so bad. You lure them in and take their money, then you go after a few moments. You don't have to even take your clothes off most of the time. Men like blow jobs. If only their wives would, they could save a fortune

fucking me."

Tom smiled at her, the easy candor of her manner amusing him. It had been a long time since he had stood still and talked to someone.

"You work alone?" he asked.

"Shit no. I wish. I have a pimp named Kol. I work my *ass* off and he takes the majority of *my* money. He has the brass balls to call it his. Now, I ask you...is that right?"

Tom smiled. "No, it isn't."

"See. I'd cut his nuts off but someone else would come along. No girl can work out here alone and none of the boys do. You could make a fortune."

Tom sighed, pushing back the blackness. "I can't do that."

"You can't do this yet," she corrected him. Looking down the street, she sighed. "If you change your mind, I work here every day, every *fucking* day of the week. Come and see me. I could run you and we could split the difference. Both of us could get off this rock before winter comes. OK?"

He nodded, having no intention of doing what she asked. With a smile she turned and walked up to a group of men standing nearby. After a few minutes of flashing and a brief fondle, one of the men walked off with her to a nearby alley. She winked at Tom as she walked by.

He watched them as they walked into the alley, the shadows swallowing them both. He turned and sighed deeply. At that moment the supervisor called out his name and he walked up to receive his job site slip.

Night time, a cheap room on the dockside...

Tom stood at the window, the half-eaten takeout dinner he had paid for laying on the small table. It was cold and bland but it was food. He stared at the darkness beyond and sighed. He had been here for about three weeks, finding steady work unloading ships and found himself growing more healthy every day.

He was alone here, alone in a way he wasn't anywhere else. He wondered if his mother would ever know about it if he died here. It was frightening and freeing to think that, ending it all in a dumpy room on a frontier planet with no one to mourn him. He would be lucky to be buried. They might just toss him in the cold stormy ocean outside his door.

The wind whistled against the wood frame of his room, the windows rustling against the patter of water that landed in droplets on the dirty panes. He turned and gazed at the room, the worn table and chairs, the big rumpled bed against one corner. A bathroom, antique and inadequate made up the rest of his 'suite'.

He sighed deeply.

It was cleansing to be alone but it was lonely too. He wished there was someone to talk to. Someone anonymous to hear his tale. He would tell him of his mistakes and his heartbreak. He would tell them of the myriad faceless fucks and endless drinks and the drugs and the men and women that handled him without his complaint. He would tell them all of that, purging his soul of some of his burden.

But he wouldn't tell them of his father.

That burden was his alone. It was his cross and he nailed himself to it for the duration. No one would ever know about that part of his life.

Ever.

He turned and stared out the window, the rain coming down in sheets and watched the night once more...

The next week...

The big man watched the slim blond waiting for his call and

and assessed his value in latinum. It was considerable. In fact, this might be given the proper handling his golden ticket off this cesspool.

Tall and slim, blond and classy, he was a good looking, no, strike that. He was a beautiful young man. Quiet, unassuming, an air of depression shrouding him, he would be the pride of his stable. He certainly was head and shoulders over the other boys he ran.

He walked over to the youngster, his eyes never leaving him and touched his arm. Tom jumped, turning to look into cold brown eyes.

"My name is Kol. I want to talk to you."

Tom stared at him, a thousand faces like his flashing before his eyes and shook his head. "I don't want what you're selling."

"Actually, that *is* what I want to talk to you about." Kol's hand tightened on Tom's arm and he turned to steer him

to the alley.

Tom pulled loose, turning in a defensive stance. Kol stepped back, his hands raised. "I just want to talk to you about a business proposition."

"I'm not interested." Tom's face felt numbed and he stood, his fists clenche, sdaring at the man with ill-concealed rage.

"You know who I am." Kol spoke with a low, angry tone.

Tom nodded.

"Then you know that what I want, I get. I can run you, give you thirty-five percent of what you make."

Tom's face wrinkled in scorn. "Thirty-five percent?"

"That's good wages, boy. Ask around. You would only fuck the high rollers. There would be nothing small time about you."

"No thanks." Tom hissed his answer moving to walk away when the man called out.

"Boy, what I want, I get. I want you. Sooner or later, you will come to me and then you will see that this is not an invitation."

Tom turned and walked up the dock.

For two days Tom found himself followed by thugs. He managed to stay away from them and decided he had to move on. There was nothing to gain here and everything to lose.

One evening as he walked to his room he heard footsteps behind him and picked up his pace, casually looking back. He saw the two men who had been following him and broke into a run.

Down the waterfront he went heading to the bars and strip joints that bordered it. Past ships of the sea and air he sprinted. Turning down a dark alley he hustled, seeking a doorway that was open and finding none. As it became clear he was trapped he felt a strong hand clamp over his mouth and an arm curve around his chest pulling him back into the darkness.

A big body slid down the wall holding him in an iron embrace and they both sat motionless as two men pounded into the alley. Searching haphazardly they both swore and ran back out the other way.

Tom sat captured and held waiting for his captor to let him go. Removing his hand, a soft voice whispered for him to not make a sound. They both rose, the arm still around him. Tom leaned against the body in fatigue for a moment, then sighed as the arm released him. Turning he stared into the dark eyes of someone shrouded in shadow, the fine lines of a tattoo covering part of his forehead. The man leaned forward pulling up his pants and nodded at another, a slim boy Tom had seen hustling on the streets. The boy rose and stared at them both waiting.

The tattooed man buttoned his pants, his shirt hanging loose and turned to the younger man handing him payment. The younger man nodded and walked off leaving them behind.

Tom watched the boy knowing he had disturbed a transaction. The tattooed man leaned against the wall, his handsome face illuminated by a ray of light. "You ruined my evening."

Tom sighed and stared at him, trying to gauge his attitude. Licking his lips he moved closer. "I'm sorry. I had little choice."

"Indeed. I saved your life from the looks of that."

Tom nodded. "You did. Thanks."

The tattooed man stepped forward moving toward Tom and stopped in front of him appraising him with that familiar look.

"You interrupted my business." He spoke in a sultry voice, his intent clear. A big hand reached up and stroked Tom's cheek gently. "You're beautiful, you know?" The man smiled, his emotion never reaching his eyes. "You are...beautiful. And you owe me."

For a moment Tom hesitated, unwilling to be touched by another stranger again but he vacillated. This man had saved him and he had ruined his pleasure. He owed him a lot, probably his life and his sanity.

The big man moved his hands to Tom's waist sliding them down to grip his ass. He slowly brought his lips to Tom's neck and touched him, sucking on his skin, pulling him closely into his arms.

Tom hesitated again and then sighed slipping his arms around the big man's shoulders. Without another word, Tom stepped backwards into the shadows with him...

A River Flows: Tom

Part Thirteen

Alley in a back street in a forgotten world...

Tom did not resist the big stranger and cooperated with him, kneeling and delivering a respectable blow job under trying circumstances. Big hands stroked his hair and the stranger came with a sigh. For a moment he held Tom's head and then he let go, sagging against the building limp with release.

Tom rose wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and stepped back away panting for air, his heart racing. It had been a while since he found himself with a stranger this way and he noted that he had no sexual response to the act. It was a duty, an obligation he had fulfilled and it made them even.

The big man pulled up his clothes, tucking in his shirt and fastening his belt. Running his fingers through his black hair he gazed at the younger man he had just shared his body with. It pleased him what he beheld and the look Tom saw in his eyes was like that of a hundred other men and women in a hundred other places and times. He looked down and then backward up the alley listening for the return of anyone hunting him. It was silent but for the big man's breathing.

"Do you have a name?"

Tom turned startled by the soft voice of the stranger. He licked his lips nervously. "Campbell. Tom Campbell," he lied.

The big man nodded telling his own lie. "I am called John." He stepped forward taking Tom's waist into his hands. He leaned in and kissed Tom, taking him by surprise. He broke the kiss, licking his lips and then he smiled. He pulled Tom into his body, the younger man stiff with reluctance and surprise and kissed Tom again. Tom stood passively letting the big man have his way. Finally, when he was finished Tom stepped back and turned to go.

"Where are you going?" John called, a slight smile on his face.

"Home," Tom replied not daring to look back.

He heard footsteps and knew John was catching up. John grabbed him and turned Tom, holding him by his arms. He smiled, his handsome face dark and sultry. "The night is young yet."

Tom sighed. "Look, I helped you because you helped me. Just because I give you a blow job in an alley in repayment for not getting killed by some bastards doesn't mean we're engaged."

"No. But sex always makes me hungry and I hate to eat alone."

For a moment Tom met John's gaze. then he signed, his eyes closing in capitulation. John lifted his chin and kissed him softly, staring at Tom's sad blue eyes.

"Come on. I'll buy you dinner and you can tell me what you're doing in this hell hole."

With that, John slipped his hand into Tom's and they walked down the alley and turned the corner toward the clubs that lined the street.

A bar nearby...

Tom sipped his coffee, his eyes studiously fixed on a small mark on the table top. All around them men and women sat drinking, eating and talking. The barmaid took their order and brought them each a lukewarm beer.

John took a big swallow, his face crumpling and he sighed. "Warm beer. Tastes like pee."

Tom smiled slightly. "So, what brings you here to this place?"

"Business." John sat his drink down and leaned forward onto his elbows fixing his dark brown gaze intently on Tom. Tom looked away for a moment unnerved by the directness of the other man's stare.

For a moment no one spoke, then John reached over and took Tom's hand. Turning it over he examined it rubbing the calluses with his fingers. Tom tugged his hand, leaning back in his chair.

"I don't believe in palmistry." Tom pulled on his hand again but John held it fast. The big man turned his hand over and rubbed the palm gently. Tom sat stilled unwilling to get into a brawl in a bar with a man holding his hand that he just sucked off in an alley. With a sinking feeling of deja vu he just sat and waited.

"Hands can tell a lot you know," John whispered. Tom strained to hear him in spite of himself.

"Yeah? What do mine say?" Tom relaxed and waited.

For a moment the dark stranger just sat looking at the hand in his grasp, his strong fingers soothing circles in the tense flesh.

"Your hands are strong, subtle. They have long fingers, talented fingers. I imagine they can do many, many things..." John raised his dark eyes to Tom, sexual desire shimmering on their endlessly dark surface. Slowly he licked his lips then continued. "I imagine that they are very good at manipulating things. Do you play the piano?"

Tom nodded, his sexual tension rising under the soothing touch of the sensual stranger.

"Your calluses are new. I imagine that you have not been a laborer long."

Tom shifted, his unease rising along with his long buried sexual desire. He had not been able to get an erection for a long time, partly because of his abuses and partly because he was weary of sex. It was just so much sweaty humiliation.

"You need a ride off this rock? You don't want to be here during winter."

Tom shrugged withdrawing his hand as the waiter put down their dinners. For a moment he sat quietly, then he picked up his fork.

"You offering me a ride off this planet?" Tom speared a vegetable and put it in his mouth chewing the tangy morsel with more nonchalance than he felt.

"Yeah. I can do this. I am heading toward Targasis III. You can come along if you want." The big man began to tuck into his food, his appetite rising with his good humor.

"What do I have to do to catch this ride?" Tom put down his fork, his face becoming still and composed. John didn't seem to notice. He ate and took a sip of his beer. Gazing at the quiet tense youngster in front of him, he licked his lips.

"You have to sleep with me. Tonight."

For a moment Tom just sat and then his face became flushed with emotion. Angry eyes raised from the plate to the big man waiting quietly for his response.

"You want me to whore for you so I can get off this rock." A pure statement of fact.

"No. Just trade in commodities. I have the ride off this rock that you seek and you have the looks and body of my favorite wet dream. It's purely a business transaction."

"That's what Kol told me. It's purely business." Bitterness tinged Tom's voice as he glared at John.

"For him, it's more than that. He'll work you until you're worn out. If you don't leave here you'll eventually be caught by his goons and there will be no escape. Is that what you want?"

Tom stared at John's hands folded over his plate and shook his head. He raised bitter eyes to gaze evenly at the older man. "It has never been about what I want. Why should now be any different?"

With that they silently ate their dinner.

Chakotay ate his meal entranced by the quiet stranger in front of him. He wondered if Tom Campbell was even his name. The name Tom sounded familiar in context with a beautiful,leggy blond but Campbell? He couldn't place it. He would ponder it some more.

He was probably the best looking man Chakotay had ever seen and certainly the best looking man he had ever fucked. The boy knew how to give a blow job. It had been expertly delivered. Sitting back sipping his beer he studied the youngster in the weak light of the bar. Slim for sure, but strong, deceptively strong. He had the kind of looks that made him hard. He liked to hold a slim body against his and feel long lean legs wrapped around him. Blond hair like sunlight and blue eyes. There was a lot of pain in those eyes...a lot of hard knocks. He wanted to look down and see them as he made love. For the first time in a long while he found himself becoming interested in someone.

Tom ate slowly, carefully chewing each bite and swallowing it with no small difficulty. His stomach was in a whirl and he felt cheap. He knew that the stranger was right. It was only a matter of time and he didn't have enough money saved from his work to get him away from here. If he stayed he would become a whore. If he left he would have to whore to do it. Tom took a shuddering breath and made peace with his decision. He would do what the stranger wanted, use him to get to where he was going then bid him adieu. Sitting up he began to eat his dinner.

Chakotay watched the boy seeing that he had made a decision and guessed that he had decided to go with the lesser of two evils. He would get laid tonight by the most beautiful man he would probably ever hold in his arms. He smiled slightly at the thought and began to eat matching the boy forkful by forkful.

An apartment near the ocean...

Tom let them in and turned on a small light. It cast shadows around the shabby room giving it a warmth of appearance that was only skin deep. Tom took off his coat and tossed it and his keys on the table. Walking to the bed he sat and began to take off his shoes and socks.

Chakotay watched him mildly put off by his emotionless stripping down. Walking over to the boy he stepped close to him, Tom's face even with his navel. Chakotay cupped Tom's chin and stilled him, stroking the pale creamy skin of his cheek with his thumb.

Tom stopped, a shoe in his hand and waited gazing at the man standing over him with shuttered eyes. He would do what he wanted and he would get through it. Then when he was off this place and on Targasis III he would leave him as fast as he could.

Tom rose slowly dropping the shoe and put his hands lightly on Chakotay's chest. The muscles beneath the shirt were hard and well defined. They had been shaped by work and hardship. This man knew pain too. For a moment Tom's inner steel flickered then it hardened again. He would be fucked by this man. He would be used in his own bed by a total stranger. He would not give it more emotion than he needed to.

With a faint mocking voice in his head, a voice that called him whore, he leaned in and kissed the big stranger, his tongue sliding between his lips and his arms tightening around his broad shoulders. Strong hands gripped his ass and Tom could feel the swelling of the stranger's groin in response to his efforts. He was pressed by the stranger's mouth as he took from Tom the momentum of the moment. He kissed Tom hard, his big hands squeezing Tom's ass and for a moment there was only the soft sounds of kissing and the lust rising from Chakotay.

He broke the kiss, staring with dark eyes into Tom's. He was mesmerized by the blue color. He had never had a lover with blue eyes. It was more than beautiful. It was summer and spring rolled into one. With small effort, he moved Tom's body to the bed and covered with his own.

He paused over Tom's face staring with a ravenous hunger at the stillness looking back at him and sighed. It didn't matter what the other man thought. He, Chakotay needed to lose himself in a beautiful body tonight. With a sigh of pure lust he lowered himself down and took the boy...

A River Flows: Tom

Intersect: Part Fourteen

The next morning...

Tom stood at the window wrapped in an old robe and stared at the gray sea. It had stilled during the night, the wildness of the storm leveling off around the early hours of the morning. It was cold outside, the winter well underway and he could feel the chill in his bones.

He had awakened, startled for a moment to find himself not alone. A big body lay next to him, a broad back scored with his own fingernails turned to his side. He lay there a moment, fragments of the past evening flitting through his mind. He was tired, his ass hurt and he was here in bed with a stranger.

Sliding slowly out from under the covers, he padded to the bathroom and tidied himself up. Slipping on his robe he walked out again noting that John or whatever his name was had rolled over on his back, his arm flung over onto what was Tom's side of the bed.

Tom stood there, his detachment intense as he looked over the man he had given himself to. There was no chance for him to hide away from Tom now. Tom sensed a fellow ghost in this big dark man.

His body was muscular and strong. He had held Tom tightly in his arms and as strong as Tom was he was not entirely sure he could have gotten loose if he tried. He was muscular and broad in the same way that Tom was muscular and slim. Slightly shorter than Tom, he didn't notice the height difference very much. John's intensity made him seem taller.

There was a faint trace of a scar on his chest along a breast and his chest was curiously devoid of hair. He had never been with a smooth man before, at least not sober and it held his eyes.

He had dominated Tom, the younger man giving no resistance and he had done as he pleased. Tom had no intention of getting hurt nor did he have much intention of giving more pleasure than he was minimally required to do.

Yet the man had surprised Tom. He seemed to want it to be a two-way experience. He coaxed Tom into the moment and stirred in him the first sexual desire he had felt in over a year. It had not been much, a stirring inside that had been missing since Marseilles but it had been there. He had not come. He had felt the edge of desire. It perplexed him and he turned to the window.

He had been remembering lately the morass of his life, the broken days after the accident and it filled him with regret. He hated to feel. He hated to think back to the moments of his defeat because he wished at that exact moment that he could undo what he had done. He longed to undo things, to make them right but he knew he couldn't. He was Tom Paris, ex-Star Fleet, total fuck up and that is what he would have to bear for the rest of his life. He was almost 22 and he would have to be known as this person for the remaining days of his life.

He leaned against the wall suddenly surprised. At no time in his debacle, at no time in the long slide downward following his court-martial did he ever think of suicide. Maybe he had wanted to die but never by his own hand in any intentional direct way.

He had fallen into the pit and wallowed there but in the end he had climbed out seeking some sort of redemption. That was why he was here on the frontier with all the other valueless drifters and outcasts. He sought his soul among the faceless refuse and slowly he had come back to himself.

He had done it alone, unwilling to let anyone know who he really was. He hated that moment when realization hit and they looked at him, their naked contempt burning him. It was a lash across his back. He was a flagellate, a man for whom there could never be extracted enough punishment. If he didn't hurt himself there were plenty of other self-righteous people waiting in line to do it themselves.

The rain began to fall across the window as he stared at the endless gray sea before him. That nearly was a metaphor for his life. He had begun the journey across an endless sea all alone in his little boat. He had weathered the first storms and come out at the other end.

He survived but the cost had been high.

Chakotay lay on the bed motionless as he watched the young man at the window. He thought he had never seen anyone so lonely. Even in profile the man was beautiful, his aristocratic good looks was at that moment he knew who Tom Campbell was. The

realization flooded Chakotay, filled him with amazement. This was Owen Paris' renegade son. This vulnerable quiet youngster was the monster of Caldik Prime. He mulled it over and felt something akin to compassion flood him. Another outcast, tossed on the trash heap. That was what crossed Chakotay's mind.

"Hey."

Tom started and turned his blue eyes piercing Chakotay with their wariness. For a moment there was no response. Tom just stood stilled and silent. Then he straightened and turned to face Chakotay. "Hi."

"Raining?"

Tom nodded. He stared at the floor unwilling to meet Chakotay's intense gaze.

Chakotay stretched and sat up running his fingers through his hair. He rose and stepped up walking to the bathroom unembarrassed with his own nakedness. For a moment he did his business then walked out and over to the window standing next to Tom. Staring out the window he sighed. "I hate the rain."

Tom didn't speak, uncomfortable with the nearness of the naked man beside him.

"I think it's time to leave this place. How soon can you be ready to go?"

For a moment Tom gazed at him gauging his sincerity, then he sighed. "I was ready a year ago."

************On the way to Targasis III...

The ship was small, intensely modified with more firepower and shielding of ships half again bigger. Tom sat in the engineer's seat watching the older man beside him fly. He was good, very, very good and it was more than pleasant to sit here and watch stars flash by.

Chakotay set a speed that would not draw attention then flipped on the autopilot mechanism. There would be little to do now but sit back and relax.

Tom concentrated on the view ahead rather than the one beside him. He was still nervous around the stranger but it was easing. He had not hurt him nor had he taken more than he had bargained for. Tom felt relatively safe in his company.

Chakotay leaned back and relaxed noting the proximity of Tom's long leg to his. He could think of a dozen ways to pass the time between here and Targasis but he was sure that it would be a disaster to initiate something the younger man might not welcome. He would have to use finesse.

It amused him to know how much he wanted the handsome young man. For a moment his shell cracked and he found himself wanting something he hadn't experienced since Will. He wanted to hold someone in his arms who cared for him, to talk to someone about things that mattered and have a connection at the level of his soul with another person.

He thought of his last fling, a stupid move on his part. Seska had been a mistake. He had too much to drink that night and she had made a move. They had sex. He hesitated to call it love and the next day the dynamic had changed.

Seska was a strong woman but he didn't need a woman. They had continued for a while, Chakotay unwilling to do more to cause turmoil, then he broke it off. It had not been a good idea. In fact, it was one of the worst ideas he had ever had.

Now he had someone who intrigued him, someone he knew was not who he said he was and someone who was dazzling him with his beauty. This was a puzzle within a puzzle within another puzzle and he longed to unwrap each until he came to the core. This one he would handle with kid gloves and maybe he would get lucky. Maybe he could get the buttoned down kid to care about him too.

Later that evening...

They had eaten, played some cards and talked. It had lightened, the atmosphere and the youngster was even beginning to smile. Chakotay basked in the warmth of the infrequent smile, the sunny glow of it filling the room. He finally decided to test the waters. "My name is not John," he said taking a sip of his tea.

Tom finished dealing the cards and picked his up, sorting them in his hands. "I didn't think so."

"You don't seem surprised."

"No. Few people out here have real names the first time you meet them."

"Tom is your real name," Chakotay stated regarding his cards with deeply disguised dismay.

"Yes."

For a moment there was no conversation.

"Chakotay. My name is Chakotay."

Tom looked up, his blue eyes gazing with bemusement. "No wonder you use John."

Chakotay smiled openly and delightedly. Tom smiled back caught by the beauty of that rare sight. They settled in and played poker, talking and joking, the ice broken far into the night. It was early in the morning when Chakotay finally put his cards down and stretched.

"It's late. I'm turning in."

He rose and walked to the back of the ship stepping into the small cabin that served as a sleeping area. There was only one small bed inside. He stripped to his shorts as Tom stood in the doorway eying the man's physique once again. He was powerful and beautiful Tom decided as he watched.

Chakotay sat on the bunk and moved to the back waiting for Tom to join him. Tom hesitated for a moment and then removed his shoes and socks. He sat down on the bunk and stretched out onto his side, the older man spooning against his back.

Chakotay settled down carefully draping an arm over Tom's waist his face nestling into Tom's neck. With a sigh of fatigue Chakotay slipped into sleep. It would take longer for sleep to come to Tom but it finally would.

A River Flows

Intersect: Part Fifteen

Morning on a ship going to Targasis III...

Tom awoke, something tickling his nose. He opened his eyes and found long strands of black hair fallen into his eyes. A heavy weight was sprawled across his body pressing him into the bunk. Chakotay had rolled over onto him in his sleep and had sprawled over Tom's body, his arm dangling down to the floor. His soft breath warmed Tom's neck and he relaxed. It felt good.

Chakotay shifted, his leg pressing between Tom's, his morning erection pressing against Tom's hip. Tom sighed. It had been a long time since he allowed this kind of intimacy and didn't feel unclean at the same time.

Chakotay shifted again moving on top of Tom and sliding his hands along the bunk until he had Tom in his arms. His eyes blinked open and he grinned. "Morning."

Tom licked his lips and slowly moved his hands up and across Chakotay's back. "Morning."

Chakotay lowered his head rubbing his cheek against Tom's, the younger man's soft stubble scratchy against his skin. Chakotay kissed Tom's jaw, his chin and then his lips. Tom tightened his arms around Chakotay and pressed against Chakotay's mouth seeking comfort from the big man covering him.

Chakotay gave it and more moving against Tom's leg, his own rubbing Tom. In the silent room, they moved, kissing and moaning with the pleasure they gave each other. Chakotay came with a sigh, Tom following soon after. They lay in each others arms reluctant to break the moment. It was the first time in the frontier that Tom felt safe.

******Targasis III...

They landed and disembarked walking to the small safe-house that Chakotay maintained here. Tom had deduced that he was either a smuggler or a Maquis. Tossing his bag in the small bedroom he turned and watched the older man check his mail.

"I have a meeting," he said glancing up. "Let's get something to eat before it starts."

Tom nodded and they walked down the street to a small diner taking a booth in the back. They ordered and waited, companionably enough. Tom studied Chakotay musing on his angle when Chakotay smiled.

"Well?"

Tom leaned back. "Well, what?"

"Well, what are you thinking about?"

"I am wondering what your angle is? Are you a smuggler or are you Maquis?"

Chakotay thought for a second. Then he leaned forward. "Would you have a problem with either?"

"Depends on what you're smuggling."

Chakotay grinned. "I'm not a smuggler."

Tom grinned back as the waiter put down their food. It was much better cuisine than that of his last planet and Tom ate quickly surprised at how hungry he felt.

They left the diner and walked down the street taking many routes until they came to a small nondescript warehouse. Slipping inside they walked up steps and entered a small room. A tall woman stood up and turned to them, a look of coldness on her face as she saw Tom. Tom stared at her as Chakotay greeted the other people there not once letting go of his hand. The woman's eyes were like ice cubes and he returned her stare with one of his own. Chakotay turned to Tom and smiled. "This is Tom," he said and began to introduce everyone.

Tom nodded to each. Chakotay finally turned to the tall woman and smiled, a cold look in his own eyes. "Tom, this is Seska."

*****Later

The meeting concluded and Seska asked Chakotay to speak to her privately. Reluctantly, he stepped aside engaging in an intense heated discussion. Tom watched leaning against the wall and noted that he didn't want to ever get into an argument with Chakotay. The look he was giving Seska could peel paint.

Chakotay turned and walked toward the door slipping his arm around Tom's waist. They left the room and walked hurriedly down the stairs. Once outside Tom hurried along beside the Maquis noting the look of fury on his face. Finally, he grabbed Chakotay by the arm and stopped.

Chakotay whirled and grasped Tom's face in his hand kissing him passionately on the lips. They stood there kissing, then Chakotay stepped back. His rage had abated a bit but only by degree.

"What was that all about back there?" Tom asked wiping his mouth with his hand.

For a long moment Chakotay struggled with his self-control, then he calmed. With a sigh he looked at Tom slipping his hands around Tom's face. He leaned in and kissed him softly. "That was a mistake," he whispered, "a damned fool mistake."

Tom regarded him then nodded. Chakotay kissed him again and they walked on toward the town. Standing back in the shadows, a look of hatred on her face, Seska turned and walked back to the warehouse.

Tom became the pilot of Chakotay's ship, living on the vessel with the rest of his cell including Seska. She and Tom had a healthy hatred for each other and it began to infect the crew. Tom was an outsider and no one knew him. Most of the time they ignored him but once in a while they challenged him and he would strike back. They held to an uneasy truce the rest of the time.

Chakotay worked hard at smuggling weapons to the Maquis from Federation sources. He was always short of pilots. He mulled over letting Tom take runs for him but he was loath to let the young man out of his sight. They had something growing between them and he couldn't bear risking him.

However they had to do their job. Lives were depending upon them. A ship would have to be delivered to the secret base on the edge of the Bajoran frontier. It had to be there and Chakotay had to do it soon. As he was pondering his problems he felt someone's hand on his shoulder. Looking up he gazed into the face of his brother, Nayib.

Rising without a word, he embraced his brother. They held each other for a long time. Finally, Chakotay stepped back and looked long and hard at him. "You look thin, Nayib."

"I feel thin, Chakotay," he replied, a slight grin on his face.

"How long are you going to be here?" Chakotay asked.

"Not more than a few minutes. I just had to see you."

Chakotay nodded. "How is the family?"

"They are fine. Everyone is well. Bey is in the Federation doing recon and the girls are working at their own projects. Mama sends her love."

For a moment Chakotay's face crumpled and he closed his eyes against the pain he felt. Nayib hugged him tightly. They sat on chairs at the table and Nayib took Chakotay's hand. "Tell me, Chakotay, what is Tom Paris doing here?"

Chakotay met his gaze. "No one knows that, Nayib. I'd like to keep it that way."

He nodded. "Seska sure hates him. And, Gregor and Tom nearly came to blows when I passed them."

Chakotay sighed. "Seska is stirring up trouble. Tom won't back down when someone pushes him. It's caused a lot of trouble in the crew."

"You like him don't you." It was a statement of fact. Chakotay gazed at Nayib, a sheepish grin crossing his face. "It's a bit more than that, Nayib. A lot more, maybe."

Nayib grinned and reluctantly rose to his feet. "Good, Chakotay. I'm glad." He pulled his little brother into an embrace and they stood together a long time. Finally, with a kiss on the cheek, Nayib stepped back out the door and slipped away. Chakotay stared at the doorway a long time and then with a shuddering sigh sat back down to work.

********************Three days later...

They met and began to plan a run of weapons to the base out of Bajor. The ship they needed was not available and so they had quickly organized and rebuilt a replacement. It was old but modified. It would have to do. Against his own better judgment Chakotay chose Tom to fly the ship. He would not be along as there were too many problems to solve to risk going. Tom would fly the ship and return in three days.

Easy.

They had discussed it in bed the evening before and although and Tom both loathed to part they knew they had to do the run and Tom was the best available pilot. Chakotay hugged him holding him close to his heart and they slept wrapped tightly together for the whole night.

As Chakotay concluded his presentation, Seska leaned back in her chair and fixed her cold gaze on Tom. "How do you know we can trust him?" She nearly hissed the words. "How much do you require to make the run, *Tom Paris*?"

The room was stilled, the air sucked away as everyone looked from Seska to Tom and then Chakotay. Chakotay stood slowly, his face pale and raged-filled. He looked at Seska with loathing. She too rose slowly.

"You did know he is Tom Paris? The Paris of Caldik Prime fame? Did you know that boy in your bed was a Federation spy?"

Chakotay struck her knocking her off her feet. She stood up, murder on her face and glared at Chakotay. Tom rose slowly, his face pale, his body trembling. He stared at her and at Chakotay as others rose, the looks of hatred and disgust so long gone back in place at the mere mention of his name.

"Shit, Chakotay. What have you done?" The Maquis known only to this group as Marcellus turned to Chakotay, rage on his face. "You've brought a Star Fleet spy into our action."

"He's no spy." Chakotay spoke low and clear.

Tom felt himself falling apart, the stress of the past week coming down on him at once. He glared at Marcellus. "I'm the best damned pilot you will ever see."

"Spy!" Seska moved closer rubbing her cheek with her hand. "You are a Federation spy!"

"Bullshit!" Chakotay moved toward Seska as Marcellus moved between them.

"Chakotay!" They all stopped, everyone becoming silent as Marcellus turned to Tom.

"Are you Tom Paris?"

Tom looked at him, fury on his face. It was good enough when they didn't know who he was but now that they did it mattered. Fuck them. If they wanted him now it would cost. "Yeah, I am."

"So what do we do with him?" Seska said, her intent clear.

"Pay me! You want me to fly your run? It will cost you. Plenty." Tom spit out the words, his fury complete.

Marcellus stared at the table knowing they had to do something. The need was too great for a delay. He looked up at Tom and a look of contempt crossed his face. "Very well. Name your price."

Tom gave a large figure, his heart pounding in his chest. Marcellus inhaled but nodded. "Half now and half when you get back, Paris."

"You can't be serious!" Seska screamed. "You have to be crazy to trust a spy for the Federation!"

"The deal is done. You leave now. No waiting." Marcellus tossed the padd with navigation instructions to Tom who caught it and turned walking to the door. He stopped and looked back, his eyes meeting Chakotay's. For a moment there was no one else in the room but the two of them and then slowly Tom turned and left.

For a moment no one moved. Then Chakotay took a chair and threw it across the room where it shattered against the wall. He turned to Marcellus, his anger palpable. "I *knew* who he was. I knew he was Paris." He moved menacingly toward Marcellus.

"You knew that and took him anyway!?" Marcellus was incredulous.

"Who else hates Star Fleet more than we do?" Chakotay hissed.

Seska watched them quietly. It would only take a brief call to friends and Tom Paris would be yesterday's news. As for Chakotay? That would take more finesse. Without a word, Seska turned and left the room.

***************TBC c1998


	4. Chapter 4

A River Flows 16-17

Summary: Games on the road to purgatory...

-0-Brig, scout ship, Orion...

No one came to the Brig but the night guard who didn't bother him and the day guard, Benson. Benson would spend hours standing at the barrier staring at Tom. Tom learned to ignore him, seething inside but aware that Benson was right. No one was prepared to help him in this place or any other place he was going. He was alone.

The next day he was led to the shower room, Benson following him and again they fought. Tom was determined not to give in to the bullshit and Benson was determined that he would obey. Cuffed to the shower head, Benson regenerated the black eye he got in the short, brutal but futile fist fight Paris insisted upon having. He had anticipated this and had a regenerator and cuffs laying on the sink inside the shower room.

Turning to Paris, he flicked open his knife and walked toward him, defiant blue eyes meeting him every step of the way. Slowly he cut the overall away and removing his jacket, once again scrubbed Paris raw, rinsing him with hot water. The burns and scrapes were starting to tell. Benson picked up the regenerator and slowly began to fix the wounds. His hands lingered over Tom's body as he healed the wounds. The sense of power Benson got was staggering. It made astonished him that he needed and wanted this.

Finished, he pressed Tom against the wall whispering into his ear what he could expect from prison and laughed. Stepping back, he released Tom and tossed him his clothes. Tom dressed and walked to his cell, Benson raising the barrier once again. He stood a while watching Tom eat and then he walked into the shower room, rinsing his face and pondering his emotions. Sighing deeply, he found inside no big conflicts of conscience or duty to prevent him from having his little show with a genuine Federation traitor. Sighing again, he smiled.

Four more days.

-0-Star Fleet Command, Admiral Paris' Office...

Owen Paris paced, his anger tremendous. Tom was humiliating him again. He had been caught running guns. This time it would be treason. It never ended for him. Owen thought back over the life they had made in San Francisco. Thomas Eugene had been given every advantage. He had been groomed for greatness from the day he was born. Thomas Eugene had the best schools, the best home and the best opportunities that wealth, privilege and connections could bring. He had made sure that Tom's friends were from the creme de la creme of Star Fleet society. Tom had attended functions from the time he was a kid. He had met everyone, been everywhere and had seen everything. It was inconceivable that he could turn out this way.

His sisters hadn't. They were paragons. He had used them as examples all of Tom's life, telling him that if he tried he could be as good a student, as successful as person, as beloved, as genteel, as ad infinitum as they both were. But it was all for not. The boy insisted on finding his own friends, choosing activities and hobbies that had no purpose in the pursuit of the career he was born for. Sailing boats and building models of ships that had no real purpose in the broader scheme of things were never tolerated.

Owen found himself very glad that his father was not alive to see the disgrace of his grandson and himself. It hurt Owen in his heart and it surprised him. He thought he had extinguished his son from his psyche when he left the house to confess. But it hadn't. He would have to work on that. He would have to take care now that Thomas was being returned for trial. The Federation was having difficulty quelling the Maquis and a show trial was in the air. It had that burnt, ozone smell of media circus written all over it. He would have to distance himself carefully from this one or his career was over. Standing in front of the window that overlooked the Pedestrian Quad Owen Paris mentally formulated the press release he would give in which he publicly and for all time disowned his only son.

-0-At a dig site on a planet in the frontier...

Miriam Paris sipped her water deeply satisfied with her dig. She had found evidence of an ancient society predating human civilization here on this far away world and it diverted her from her worries about her family. Her daughters were fine. Kathleen had just married a fine young man, James Courtland, an architect, and had settled in Atlanta. Moira was finishing a course of study in non-human medicine on Vulcan returning near the holidays to visit her in San Francisco. They would go to St. Moritz to ski shortly after that.

Miriam tried not to think about Tom as much. He was her heartache and although she got e-mails once in a while from far away frontier planets, her fear for him was endless. She had even tried to find him, searching for him in a dozen nameless places but to no avail. He was always just that much ahead of her. She had delved inside her heart and hoped that there was a god. She prayed every night in the hope that there was one so that diety would protect and return to her the prodigal child of her broken heart.

Sitting in the shade sipping water and musing on her life, a student came with the mail. Watching her distribute it she smiled as a padd was handed to her. It was from Kathleen. Miriam stood slowly, her eye riveted on the message. Turning in a terrified circle, uncertain for a moment what direction she should go, Miriam Paris screamed.

-0-Fifth day, scout ship, Orion...

The game was perfected between them. It was a matter of pride who was the more battered. Every morning they would go to the shower room and every morning they would fight. Every morning Benson would outfight Tom, outweigh and overpower him, cuffing him to the shower head. He would wash his battered face and regenerate slowly the bruises and cuts. Then he would take his knife, cut Tom's overall off and scrub him with scalding water. Every day he would step back and dry himself off, watching the taller but slighter man dangle.

Then the best part would come. He would take the regenerator in hand and slowly, languidly move over the pale skin, making the bruises and cuts disappear. It was the highlight of his day. He uncuffed Tom, tossing his clothes to him as he leaned against the wall, a look of pure hatred on his face. Tom dressed in silence and walked to his cell stepping inside and turning to Benson.

Benson triggered the barrier and stared back. He walked with a grin to the shower room and changed into a spare uniform he kept in the locker nearby.

-0-Shuttle on the way to Earth...

Miriam Paris had wept for days. She was nearly cried out as she made the last leg for home. Tom's trial had begun and she would be lucky to make it there in time. It nearly burst her heart to think that her baby might face this trial alone. He couldn't be alone. She had to be there with him. She had to face this hell with him. He was all alone. She turned her face to the window and wept.

-0-Last day, scout ship, Orion...

Benson leaned over the sink, the blood from his cut eye dripping into the slowly running water. It swirled and disappeared down the drain. He felt the blows on his body and would spend time tonight reviewing them as he did every minute of his time the past six days. He picked up the regenerator and began to work on his face, oblivious to the exhausted injured youngster hanging cuffed to the shower head.

The traitor. The gun runner. The man responsible for how many deaths of his conrades? No one would know and no one would care about this, that he was sure of. All was right morally and ethically in his suddenly much more interesting world.

-0-A shuttle to jail...

Tom sat chained to another prisoner, his face remarkable for its composure. He was ice, emotionless and determined to remain that way. No matter what happened to him no one would be able to touch him. Louis Marquette tried. He failed. Tom had fled him and even when he was pinned to his bed by Marquette's body he had fled, retreating to a safe place of his mind. There were plenty on the frontier who wanted him, Kol only one of those who tried but he had defied all of them. He had fled, fought or ignored all of them.

Once he was sober, once he was free of drugs and the deadly indifference that had led him to be abused in Marseilles he had staved off the worst. Benson had taken his body but he had not touched his heart. He was sealed in his walls, his fortress tall and unbreached. Even in that shower room when it was hopeless he was defiant. In the center of his heart, there was all that he was safe from the reach of anyone. He, Thomas Eugene Paris would take the shit of the universe and smile. No one would ever be able to touch him again.

***c1998

A River Flows

Intersect, Part Seventeen

Disclaimer: See part one.

Summary: The trial and sentencing of a criminal...

-0-Courtroom, The Hague...

Tom sat quietly, his face expressionless. His lawyer was a determined young woman but it was a hopeless case. She fought for him he would have to admit but it was all for naught. He was doomed and he was determined to walk through this with dignity and composure. Fuck the world, he would not break.

No one from his family was there. He didn't blame them. Why should they come? The media was a swarm of insects that buzzed him each day as he walked in manacled and walked out the same way. In four days the trial would be over. The day that they declared him guilty, Owen Paris released his statement. Thomas Eugene Paris was not his son and he would not permit any discussion of the young man in his presence.

End of story.

Tom heard about it from a fellow prisoner and hid his pain well. Leaning back on his bunk he tried to push the pain down, make it small and insignificant. Maybe someday it would be but he doubted it seriously. The next day he walked in and they sentenced him. He would spend his entire incarceration at the Star Fleet prison, Auckland Penal Colony, Auckland, New Zealand. Only a flicker of an eye betrayed his shock. He would spend almost three years among the worst criminal population in the Federation. They led him out the door and into a side room. He paused confused and turned freezing.

Miriam Paris stood and walked to him taking his face into her hands. Sliding her arms around his neck they both stood and wept.

-0-Maquis ship in the Bajoran frontier...

The news of Tom's conviction and sentencing reached Chakotay over the FNN feed. He listened with a stone face, then went into his cabin for two days. When he came back out his face was like etched stone. He walked to his ship and began to fight the enemy like he had never before. He would never permit anyone close to him again. No one would be able to climb over the walls that he erected around his soul. No one, not even Seska.

-0-Star Fleet HQ, Commodore ben Aaron's Office...

Matthew ben Aaron switched off the comm link. He had called his wife and asked how things were. She had been surprised but filled him in on the day and the activities of the children. Thiel unable to bear children of their own opened her house to needy children and they had more kids than they could handle. She was a phenomenal mother raising all kinds of kids with discipline and love. A non-observant Jew nevertheless she made sure that the customs and observances of all their children were kept. They would have a foundation when they grew up and left the big, noisy house on the beach.

Matthew sat tapping a stylus and thinking about life. He had wanted a son or daughter of his own all of his life and it was a yearning in Thiel's soul that would never still. Owen Paris had a son and didn't love him. He couldn't fathom it. Thiel and Matthew had raised thirty-five children so far with ten still at home and two babies coming. He could not love them more if they were his own flesh and blood. Yet in all the years he had known Owen he had never heard him speak of Tom. It puzzled him. He was a boy in trouble and knowing Owen he could see why. He rose and walked to the window.

His father told him to take all people as they were. Look into their eyes, Matthew and search for their humanity. Then you will have the measure of the man. He had searched Owen's eyes for years and had never found the spark. It wasn't there. For a moment he felt compassion for the prodigal son of Owen and Miriam Paris. What a loss and what a life that boy must have had. Matthew ben Aaron sighed. He had no son to love and Owen Paris didn't love his son. It was an awful conundrum for a man like Matthew. Owen Paris could not find it in his heart to love that which was most precious to his soul, his very own son. He had no loyalty.

He would never be able to trust Owen Paris again.

-0-A small room, Courthouse, The Hague...

Miriam had to be pried off of her son by security guards when they came to take Tom away. He heard her screams long after he was taken to a transport for the shuttle station nearby. Sitting in the seat, his hands and feet manacled, others prisoners around him, he closed his eyes and tried to memorize the words his mother whispered over and over again.

/...I love you, son. I love you, Tommy. Mommy loves you so much.../

She had whispered them over and over clutching him to her, her shuddering sobs breaking his heart, cracking the facade that he so carefully maintained. He had wept with her whispering back to her his love and regret.

/...I'm sorry, Mama. I'm sorry. I love you, Mama.../

All they could do was clutch each other and weep. When it was time to go and they pulled her away he nearly lost his mind. He struggled crying to her a jumble of words that he couldn't even remember now. It was all a mass of motion and sound. He was put on this shuttle, locked into his seat and the door slammed shut. He looked out the window but he couldn't see her.

Miriam Paris stood in the pouring rain, in a courtyard of a courthouse in The Hague as a shuttle transport rose from the ground and took her boy to prison. Without a further word she slowly drifted to the ground.

-0-Shuttle ride to Auckland, New Zealand...

It was a brief ride as far as shuttles go. He was in the air, over the world and down to the ground in a very short time but it felt like forever. He leaned against the window, the unfamiliar feeling of shackles weighing on him and he closed his eyes. He was a small child again playing in the sand with his mother, building sand castles and hunting shells. She was always there for him never letting him down and she was here for him now.

It had been indescribable the feeling he had seeing her. She was his guardian angel and he had hurt her over and over. She had defended him his whole life, loved him with a singular devotion and it hadn't saved him. She was the only warmth in his soul. She was the only person in his whole life that he loved with intensity and devotion.

He sighed deeply and Chakotay entered his mind. What would he be thinking now? He wished he was on the frontier with him. He missed touching him. It sickened him to think of anyone else touching him. Only Chakotay made him feel clean.

Now they were apart forever. He would never see Chakotay again. They would both die in their respective sewers, the pawns of a diffident and omnipotent power. The universe in its casual and perfect indifference could give a fuck about two small people living lives of quiet futility. The dice were rolled and it had come up snake eyes. There was nothing more to do but continue on. He would be entering the worst prison on the Earth. Even though it belonged to an 'enlightened society' it was still a prison and the seven hundred men incarcerated inside did not give a damn about fine ideals and tony beliefs.

They wanted to be fed, housed and fucked. That pretty much took care of the needs of this closed society. When the bigger world was taken away, when choice was a figment of the imagination and your territory reduced to a bunk and a dresser drawer there was little else to think about than the immediate needs of your body. A full stomach, a decent bed and a good hard fuck once in a while was about all a man needed to get through the days at Auckland Penal Colony. The high faluting ideals of the Federation Charter didn't count for crap in this place and the rules that ran the joint were not much different than prisons anywhere at anytime. The strong ruled and the weak were ruled.

Tom was heading into a prison that would be much different than those of the old vids he enjoyed from by-gone centuries. But a great deal of what passed as life behind bars was the same. He would wear a prison bracelet and work at a job. He would eat in a mess hall and sleep in a bunk with a roommate across the room. He would shower and shave in his cell, an accommodation to both decency and the myriad aliens that also populated the prison system.

He would to sleep when he was told and wake up the same way. He would eat, work, piss and play when he was told. He would speak to the shrink when sent for and exercise in the prison facilities when it was time. At no time in his day would he have control over a single function. It was not allowed. He was to rehabilitate but at the state's direction. Entering into a man's world, surrounded by men from many worlds, cultures and points of view, Tom Paris was on his own. He would be new meat and it would be up to him how much he would compromise to survive.

Tom Paris was Owen Paris' only son and he would be fair game for any man with a grudge or any strong man with a hankering for paybacks who was willing to make him his own. It would not be pretty but Tom was determined not to be anyone's victim. He would go down swinging before that would happen again.

C1998 TBC I am having trouble finding 18-20. I may have to recreate them. This story is 15 years old and pivotal to the rest which come next, all of them long forms on this universe. I will do my best. I put these two here because they are finished. :D


End file.
